Chapter 312: Rebirth
It was only natural for the nobles and the Archbishop of Cyprus to hesitate. Emperor Manuel I’s fleet had already arrived at Kyrenia, just one day’s journey from Nicosia. Given the Knights Templar’s attitude, the cities along the way would surely be completely undefended, and their army could arrive at the walls of Nicosia at any moment.
The Emperor’s reasons were also fully justified. They had originally held a Catholic wedding, officiated by the Patriarch of Ayyarasa Road, and the marriage certificate was in Catholic form. But under Alexander III’s decree of major excommunication, his wife could only be considered to have committed adultery with him, and their children could only be illegitimate children. This applied both to the previous Princess of the Byzantine Empire Anna and to the current niece of the Doge of Venice, Boscia.
A strange smile appeared on Boscia’s face: “Indeed, my husband once held a Catholic wedding with Byzantine Princess Anna.” She glanced at the Archbishop. “You can speak now.”
Speak what? The Archbishop of Cyprus was completely baffled.
“They also held a secret Orthodox wedding, didn’t they?”
The Archbishop was stunned, but before he could react, Boscia continued.
“I believe your box still holds a document that cannot be disclosed without permission. After that marriage acknowledged by the people, Byzantine Princess Anna held another Orthodox wedding with the Count of Edessa, the Knight of Bethlehem, and the Lord of Cyprus, under your auspices.
Although this wedding lacked the grand ceremony and numerous witnesses of the previous one, it was also completed under God’s gaze, with equal religious and legal significance.”
Her hand rested on a reliquary box that had been placed nearby long before.
No one had noticed it at the time, assuming it was a reliquary box for protecting a pregnant woman or jewels to bribe the Papal Envoy. Boscia reached out to fiddle with the lock, but found she had no strength to open it, so she signaled Nathia to do it. Nathia opened the box for her and presented the document to the Archbishop.
The Archbishop took it and looked—utterly incredulous, he even doubted if he had truly gone mad or was dreaming. He saw a complete document, a marriage contract issued by the Orthodox Church, detailing exactly when and where this couple held the wedding, who officiated, how many witnesses there were, how they swore oaths and made vows, and finally his own handwritten blessing. In the witnesses section, besides himself, there were several Cypriot nobles.
Not only that, in the witnesses section he saw a name that made his blood run cold—Theodora Komnenos. Yes, she was Emperor Manuel I’s de facto concubine and his blood niece. As a member of the Komnenos imperial family, her signature and testimony could counter any doubt.
This heavy bargaining chip slammed down on the scales in the Archbishop’s heart. “Archbishop? Archbishop?” Boscia prompted softly. “Do you need me to send someone to the cathedral to fetch the contract you have stored there?”
“Or will you go fetch it yourself?”
The Archbishop of Cyprus looked up with a sigh at the two women on the main seat. He could guarantee that with just a nod from him, whether his dispatched priest or Boscia’s dispatched knight, they would bring another identical marriage certificate.
Although Caesar was not here now, conversion only required a nod from the party involved and the one accepting the convert; all procedures could be handled later.
The only thing making the Archbishop of Cyprus hesitate now was whether he should accept the decree of the Emperor of the Byzantine Empire, but thinking of that arrogant decree filled him with rage.
He was not an Archbishop appointed by the Emperor, nor did he come from a family in Constantinople. He was a thorough Cypriot.
And over these past dozen years, he had seen enough of the Cypriots’ disappointment in the Emperor and the gradual decline of the entire Byzantine Empire. They did not need the incompetent, but the capable would not come to them either. And they constantly faced threats from Saracens or even Crusaders. They had once placed their hopes on Grand Prince Alexios, but Alexios’s foolish actions showed how laughable their expectations were.
And their new lord…
Even if he had once caused all of Cyprus to mourn Princess Anna for seven days and nights, now that the opponents had been eliminated, the rest could rest easy. As long as he showed no taste for bloodshed and tragedy, a resolute ruler was exactly what the Cypriots needed now.
His subsequent actions indeed proved he was a lord worth following: not harming the innocent, not extorting taxes, not forcing conversions, treating everyone fairly. The only concern left for the Archbishop was his faith—damn it, he was a Crusader knight, a Catholic believer.
Though not so fanatical, he still had to guard against him favoring Christians with more interests over Cypriots.
But was Emperor Manuel I truly trustworthy?
Whatever news Theodora could gather, the Archbishop had his own sources—he even knew who had gotten the Governor position in Cyprus: a mediocre and greedy little man.
This was not surprising. How could a truly capable person, an official skilled in balance and governance, a general adept at war, willingly accept the Emperor’s blackmail? Fifty thousand gold coins only bought the position; afterward, he had to pay tribute and taxes on schedule, without delay—the Emperor might further extort and blackmail.
Would that new Governor, like their current lord, willingly sacrifice his own interests without harming the Cypriot people in the slightest?
How could that be?!
He would only intensify the exploitation and oppression of the people to satisfy the Emperor’s appetite and cover his own losses.
And even from the Archbishop’s personal standpoint, he had to consider the matter of Grand Prince Alexios—yes, he had been one of Grand Prince’s former supporters. The Emperor surely knew they intended to support Alexios to replace him.
If that new Governor fully controlled Cyprus, could he really continue safely as Archbishop? Exile to a monastery would be the best he could hope for. More likely, the Emperor’s dispatched eunuch would strangle him, and his holy office position might even be sold for a sum.
At this thought, he hesitated no longer and immediately raised his head: “Yes, this is the document. No need to fetch mine.
They did indeed hold an Orthodox Church wedding in St. Lazarus Cathedral and received confirmation from everyone.”
Boscia relaxed slightly upon hearing this, but this was just the beginning.
“Finally, I have good news for you all: the Venetians’ fleet has set sail and will arrive in Cyprus in a week. They will intercept the Byzantines’ fleet—Nicosia is a huge and sturdy fortress. I believe holding out until that day won’t be difficult, as long as you all work together with my husband in unity and harmony.
My husband’s mercy and generosity as Lord of Cyprus are things you have all witnessed with your own eyes and heard with your own ears… Here, I swear on my grandfather, my parents, and the child in my womb: he will convert to the Orthodox Church and thereafter fairly reward every person willing to be loyal to him.”
Without the previous year, Boscia’s words would only make these Cypriot nobles, fed up with the Emperor and Governor, scoff. But Caesar’s established merits and restored order were plain for all to see—even when Boscia then invited the family heads to stay overnight in the Governor’s Palace to discuss defending the city, it caused no great stir.
The last noble bowed to Boscia and took his leave. Boscia watched him exit the door and close it behind him before standing with the support of her handmaid and Nathia—and as she stood, she felt a warm flow from between her legs, her face changing color.
She looked down and saw her velvet gown completely soaked.
The priests had all said she should give birth last month, but her belly showed no sign. If not for Caesar’s personal letter reassuring her that the child was more likely to be born at the end of this month or the beginning of next, and Nathia checking her body as Caesar had taught and telling her how to listen for the child’s heartbeat and feel the movements, she might have completely collapsed in anxiety.
A handmaid was about to scream when Nathia slapped her. At this time, those Cypriot nobles probably hadn’t left the corridor yet; if they discovered Boscia was in labor, who knew what changes might occur.
“Quick, to the birthing room!” It was fully prepared, cleaned daily by people, both secluded and safe.
But before a sedan chair could be fetched, a knight hurried in to report.
“What?”
Nathia’s face changed instantly. “Who leaked the news?” Without waiting for the knight’s answer, she waved her hand quickly: “No need to tell me…” Tracking it down wouldn’t matter anyway, but generally, before a battle, people fled into the city, not out.
“Someone is inciting the citizens to flee to other cities or the countryside…”
In siege warfare, cities and fortresses would try to take in as many surrounding people as possible, unless food and water stocks were already low. Nicosia was a large city full of merchants; food and water were no issue—the more residents who stayed and could be sheltered, the better, as citizens were the true mainstay in defense.
And with people continuously fleeing the city, the city gates couldn’t be closed—if they insisted, the populace would clash with the guards.
Boscia cleared her mind somewhat after a sharp pain and struggled to support herself. “Nathia?”
“Boscia?”
“Go… carry me to the city wall…”
“What are you saying?!”
“At this time, I… must let the people of Nicosia see… their lord may not be here, but his wife and child are still in Nicosia. We haven’t left; we are with them—whether we face hell or heaven.”
“That’s too dangerous! There might be someone in the crowd wanting to attack you!”
“If so, that is the destiny I chose myself.”
Boscia’s face was pale, covered in cold sweat, but her resolve was unprecedented.
Thus, the people of Nicosia witnessed… an unbelievable parade.
Servants and escorts cleared the way ahead, knights holding high torches and gleaming spears. They escorted the heavily pregnant Lady of the Manor from the safe Governor’s Palace, parading through Nicosia’s streets.
Boscia lay in a sedan chair carried by four men, the curtains drawn open so people could see her face. The lord’s sister Nathia sat beside her, holding her shoulders tightly. They both wore luxurious velvet clothes; the deep purple well concealed the blood, and spices masked the smell.
By Boscia’s hand was a small box filled with gold coins and silver coins. Every few steps, she grabbed a handful and threw them forcefully to the crowds on both sides of the street: “Fight for my husband,” she shouted weakly, and the silence ensured everyone heard her voice. “Fight for your lord!
He treated you with tolerance beyond any previous ruler here; he cherished and pitied you like his own flock of sheep—now, as he has left his territory to fight for his king and God, a band of shameless swindlers and thieves seek to sneak attack his territory, castle, and home…”
Boscia choked up, thrusting her fingers deep into the coins, gripping the hard little discs hard to withstand another sudden sharp pain. “I… I don’t demand you repay a thousandfold; that’s what the Isaacites do. I only hope that at this time, you think of how he treated you, and treat him the same—
If you are cowardly, old, young, or weary, you may rest, eat. Today until the enemy retreats, everyone will get food and drink.
Merchants, come to the Governor’s Palace too—no matter what goods you hold or how much, bring them to me; I will buy everything…
But please… stay here. Believe me, outside is even more dangerous…”
With that, Boscia could no longer hold on; she turned her face into Nathia’s bosom to hide her contorted expression. At that moment, another clamor arose from the streets: the Archbishop of Cyprus was hurrying over, riding a mule no less impressive than a war horse, dressed in vestments, holding a scepter, wearing a tall hat—this solemn attire seemed rather odd at such a time.
“He has converted!”
The Archbishop shouted loudly, then called again, “She has converted!”
“This is the son of the Lord of Cyprus!”
He placed his hand on Boscia’s belly, and Boscia could no longer endure, finally letting out a shout she tried to suppress but which still sounded agonizing to hear.
