Chapter 48: Encounter
Caesar and Baldwin could not possibly refuse Damara’s invitation.
Although Baldwin would rather spend time with his mother whom he had not seen for a long time, after all, if they wanted to meet in the future, it would inevitably lead to much criticism（ because Amalric I’s marriage with the Countess was already illegal）, and perhaps they would even face the King’s rebuke—and Amalric I was already impatient to launch the expedition to Egypt and redeem past humiliation, who knows when the army would set out from Ayyarasa Road.
But early this morning, Berion came to notify him that today the Countess was going to visit Princess Sibylla, and asked him to go play by himself—Baldwin missed his mother no matter what, but he could not deprive his sister of time with their mother, so he could only… go play by himself.
He invited Caesar to come play chess together; this was one of the rare leisurely moments they had in these past few months, and he did not even want to think too hard while playing chess. It was only when Baldwin touched the dice that he realized the chess pieces on the chess board were almost all placed.
“We’ve played this game of Shatranj all messed up,” Baldwin sighed: “If Teacher Bohemond saw it, he would definitely press us one by one against the window sill and beat our bottoms with a wooden stick.”
Caesar felt the same; these past few days Baldwin’s lessons had resumed, and he finally got to experience the true treatment of sons of grand dukes or counts like David, Abigail, William, Guy… that is, getting their bottoms beaten by dukes and counts.
Education in this era had no tenderness or affection, nor any laws protecting minors.
Even if there were, a child who received the blessing, even if right at the age limit of nine years old, would be seen as an adult in training; whether going hunting or praying, they had to do it flawlessly without a single mistake, otherwise it would be “sorry to God and the saint’s favor”…
Baldwin was already accustomed to the teachers’ strictness; due to his special status, he did not go to other lords’ small castles at seven years old, but stayed in Holy Cross Castle. Instead, his father’s vassals all sent their own sons over to be attendants.
But the things an attendant should do, he had done none less since he was six. Serving the lord to dress, tidying rooms, running errands, cleaning the castle, raising dogs, feeding pigs—he had done almost everything except cleaning the toilet. These tedious tasks were not to torment him, but to force a child “pampered by women” to quickly learn how to obey and submit.
He kept doing that until he was seven, then it was time for lessons; the teachers were all familiar faces—whom he often saw in his father’s court, and occasionally his father Amalric I would come to teach a few lessons himself.
What Baldwin regretted most was that there was no mistress in Holy Cross Castle, so lessons like etiquette, poetry, and dressing, which should be handled by the mistress, he still had to face a male teacher…
Sometimes, Baldwin could not help but fantasize: if his parents had not divorced, and Countess Agnes was still the castle’s mistress, how wonderful that would be. Even if a little attendant made a mistake, the mistress would still take a stick and beat his bottom, but that feeling would surely be different!
“Sister and mother must be having lunch together now.” Baldwin gazed at the sunlight outside the window and said: “These past few days the castle has been piled full of all kinds of food; Byzantine merchant ships brought even more.
What do you think they will eat? Chickpeas, cheese-baked fish, or wine-stewed fruit? I wonder if mother likes Byzantine food; these days the castle’s cook has researched many dishes made with fish, meat, and chicken to welcome the Byzantine Princess…”
He sat cross-legged, watching Caesar pick up the chess pieces, while fantasizing about how his mother and sister were happily together, full of laughter, and sourly worrying if his mother would forget about him—after all, they were both women, and surely had more to talk about.
What the Prince did not know was that after the hugging and crying, the Countess brought up that blunder of a marriage—the atmosphere in the room immediately turned sour.
The Countess might have been a bit too eager, but it was entirely to make up for the education she had been forced to miss earlier—she left the castle when Sibylla was only six, Baldwin was three, and Amalric I had also refused her request to leave handmaids by Sibylla’s side.
She had never counted on Amalric I at all; the King had an heir, and he was not Baldwin II.
And things turned out just as badly as she had foreseen—Sibylla should not have been so eager about that marriage privately agreed upon between Amalric I and Louis VII from the start, nor should she have instigated Abigail to bribe the guide and betray Count Etienne to the Turks.
Sibylla still wanted to deny and argue—the Countess almost laughed in anger.
Evidence?! Do people not have eyes, ears, or brains? They convict you in their hearts without needing to say it out loud, but at some point, this hidden danger will definitely erupt—not perhaps, no need to wait; earlier when she occasionally met Grand Duke of Antioch Bohemond, that fox’s smile was mocking enough.
No matter how little Abigail pleased his father, he was still his heir.
Baldwin had leprosy; even if Amalric I had to confront the churches in both places, he would protect his inheritance rights. Abigail was a fool, but at least healthy, with all limbs intact—would Bohemond be happy to see him toyed with by a woman?
Even without mentioning Abigail bribing the guide, from the Countess’s standpoint, Sibylla’s previous actions had offended a large group of people.
Yes, if a noble lady is too reserved, people will complain she is an Athena or Artemis（ both virgin goddesses who swore chastity）, but if she is a Calypso relentlessly chasing the sun god（ sea nymph）, guess what people will say?
Not to mention she clearly showed two completely different attitudes.
“Men rarely distinguish right from wrong; they only care about success, failure, gains, and losses.
You raised a shield of coldness and arrogance against David, Abigail, and other nobles’ sons—that is right; the fire of love in their hearts will not only not extinguish, but burn even more crazily, tormenting them sleeplessly.
But you should not have shown your soft underbelly to Count Etienne. Of course, you could say it is the marriage agreed upon between Amalric I and Louis VII; he will be your future husband, your children’s father, so you should be gentle, obedient, and satisfy him.
But, Sibylla, you are not yet married, not even the betrothal announced. Even if Count Etienne did not refuse, would he treat you like a treasure after marriage just because of that?
He got you so easily.
You should be cold as ice; even after marriage, he should be the one chasing you, not you yielding to him!
Now it’s good—you treated Count Etienne a certain way, and others saw it all; they will demand the same treatment as Count Etienne. What? You can’t? Then they can’t either—no matter what you ask.
The only fool might be that Abigail of Antioch,” the Countess concluded angrily in the end: “This could have been your trump card, but you wasted it venting your anger… Well, now they won’t say you are Calypso; they will say you are Medea…
Medea lost her reason because Eros’s golden arrow struck her chest—what made you go mad?! The title of a countess?”
This remark led to the meeting’s end fixed on Sibylla’s unguarded humiliation—she said the Countess was no longer the castle’s mistress nor her father’s wife, and had no right to teach or rebuke her…
The Countess slapped her, knocking her to the ground, then lifted her robe and stormed out of the room in a huff.
Baldwin had no idea his mother and sister had completely fallen out; he was still happily and sadly pondering how to fairly divide his mother’s free time with his sister.
Damara had come to find Caesar; Baldwin figured there could not possibly be a second Abigail in the castle, so he just called her to his own room.
Upon seeing Prince Baldwin, Damara was immediately speechless—she was here to deliver news; the turmoil between the Countess and Princess Sibylla might form a storm, and she needed to remind Caesar to be careful—Uncle John said she was Caesar’s protector in the castle!
（Damara stood tall with chest out）
“What’s wrong?” Baldwin waited a long time without hearing a sound: “Is there something difficult? Speak up—what is it that Caesar and I cannot solve? If not, I will take you to see my father; you just kneel down, hug his knee, and keep crying and appeals, and no matter what you want, the King will give it to you.”
Damara glanced at Caesar behind the Prince with the corner of her eye; Caesar shook his head with the smallest amplitude and fastest speed.
“I… I want,” Damara raised her finger, suddenly inspired! “I want to go out and buy some things!”
Baldwin was stunned for a moment—this was such a simple request—but then he saw Caesar, “Oh oh, right,” he said with a smile: “Will Caesar be your knight? It is his honor; he should go with you.”
Caesar glanced at Baldwin, and Damara immediately understood and requested Baldwin to go with them.
Baldwin was still immersed in the warmth with his mother at this time and did not notice anything unusual; hearing Damara say that, he only thought they were shy or protective of him.
He had not left the castle for a long time; he was a leper, and if not Amalric I’s only heir, he should be wearing coarse linen clothes, living in the desert, and even when occasionally walking on the main road near crowds, he would have to shake a bell to warn them to avoid him in time.
But now he had received the blessing… his father’s ministers and generals were all eager to kiss his hand—perhaps if he went to the street, it would not cause panic.
“We can dress as Byzantines,” Damara suggested: “Many Byzantines have come recently.”
This suggestion got Baldwin and Caesar’s approval; anyway, among the Byzantine Princess’s gifts, there were many clothes suitable for boys this age. Damara, being the current head of the Gerard family’s daughter, also received a suitable gift; they quickly helped each other dress up.
Byzantine clothing continued the Ancient Rome style of loose garments; though luxurious, the main focus was on materials, with almost no difference in styles, even not obvious between men and women—an inner sleeveless or sleeved robe, and an outer large shawl outside, which might be adorned with a cloth full of embroidery and jewels, but since they were still children, they could ignore that.
Damara also had the servant bring three satchels, in the same style as the large handkerchief she gave Caesar.
Her current embroidery skills were already good, but no matter how good, they could not withstand the extravagance everywhere; Baldwin glanced at them and nearly fell backward, but a knight could not refuse a noble lady’s gift, so he could only turn his head and whisper to Caesar to pick the least conspicuous one for him and hang it on his back.
“I was just thinking of going to the market to see.” Baldwin said cheerfully: “I want to pick a gift for mama.” Although his storeroom was full of all kinds of expensive gifts, he always felt something was lacking—what was lacking? Probably the thought.
Caesar called Longinus and asked if he had Byzantine clothes; Longinus laughed upon hearing: “I have some, but no need; that kind of clothing is not suited for combat. Rest assured, it is common for three young Byzantine nobles to be followed by knights in leather armor or chainmail; I have taken similar employments before.”
He lowered his head and carefully examined the three glittering children: “Very good,” mainly this disguise could reduce the chance of being recognized, “I will go in my usual attire instead, which is better.”
Without a robe marked with status, it meant he was just a wandering knight, and needing to hire a wandering knight meant these three young Byzantines had some status, but not too high, not enough to call Knights’ knights for protection.
With his reminder, the other knights who came on orders to protect also wore their robes inside out; they left the castle, and Caesar looked at the river for a while, then at the main road, then at the sky.
“Is there a problem?” Baldwin asked, turning sideways; this time they came out without riding little horse Pollux or Castor—Pollux and Castor would surely be angry if they knew, but it was unavoidable; ever since Baldwin received the blessing, Amalric I had done everything to build momentum for him, even saying little horses Pollux and Castor were angels disguised as merchants who sent them.
Now everyone in the Holy Land knew Prince Baldwin had two little horses, one black and one white, with stars on their foreheads.
“Do you have this feeling?” In the castle it was not very obvious, but once out, Caesar felt: “It is like the world has been washed.” Indescribably clear and fine; one look, and it was like from rough grains to delicate brushstrokes, with colors much more vivid.
“Or else?” Baldwin said softly; he knew Caesar was very smart with considerable knowledge, yet always stuck on common sense: “We received the saint’s favor, God’s blessing; our physique will greatly improve, and in a few years, the gap with ordinary people will widen further.” Otherwise why did people value the Choosing ceremony so much?
Caesar thought of Count Etienne; he was equivalent to falling from a ten-story building—though with the guide as shield and cushion, and bear corpse, tree roots, and stones as buffer, he only broke one thigh bone—he was a bit surprised then, thinking he met a European; of course there was luck, but the luck was not in that fall, but that Count Etienne was also “chosen”…
Right, even with the same priest’s treatment, Count Etienne’s recovery was faster than average knights; when he could already wander the whole castle, his several unblessed attendants were still screaming in bed.
——————
“Lord, you should not come at this time.”
“You are wrong,” a Saracen wrapped in a headscarf said: “There is no better time than now.”
