Chapter 56: Visitors From Eagle’s Nest
“I request that all knights and escorts who accept the challenge do not think that the martial arts tournament I am holding is out of arrogance, hatred, vanity, or any malicious intent. The only thing I hope for is to gain your friendship and praise.”
This line, personally signed by Amalric I, was copied by monks and meticulously transcribed onto a three-foot-square wooden board, with the first letter enlarged and surrounded by images of saints and patterns, erected at the entrance to the martial arts tournament venue, visible to everyone entering or exiting.
This message also appeared in the kingdoms of the Holy Land and even more distant places. The farthest, as we all know, is England, from which comes William Marshal, the undefeated knight who has never lost in melee combat or one-on-one mounted combat—he saw the challenge and invitation from the King of Ayyarasa Road on the announcement board in London and came eagerly.
Some small towns may not have announcement boards, or the lord may be illiterate, so “heralds” rode through dense forests, rivers, and swamps to castles or fortresses to deliver this news.
The martial arts tournament held by Amalric I for this wedding is said to last several months front and back, which is astonishing but not entirely uncommon, because it alone takes one or two months for knights to arrive from all directions to the tournament site, and in the following three or four months, more will arrive one after another—if the tournament time were cut off at the usual six to eight weeks, some knights would still be on the road when it ended.
The announcement and declaration of war also specified the location of this martial arts tournament, as well as various rules the knights needed to follow, such as not plundering residents along the way for this tournament, not initiating combat arbitrarily（ even against Saracens）, not committing crimes, not damaging forests, fields, wells, etc.—these were things knights had done before.
Additionally, participating in the martial arts tournament was not free; knights had to pay fees according to their status.
Amalric I also specified that the host of this martial arts tournament was Count Raymond of Tripoli, a knight famous for his fairness and strictness. Even William, far from the Holy Land, had to admit that every match he hosted was impartial, and he could show some benevolence when making correct judgments.
When he found some knights with worn armor and aged horses, he would try to persuade them to withdraw from the competition. If they still refused, he would give them some money and tell the knights to replace their armor and horses before coming back to fight.
As for whether the knight really used the money to replace equipment or just left, Count Raymond did not care at all.
The martial arts tournaments of this time had none of the sentimentality of those centuries later; knights never used blunted swords or hollow spears. If such “courteous weapons” were discovered, your opponent would not thank you for holding back but would feel humiliated and insist on fighting you to the death.
This turned the martial arts tournament into a real campaign, with hundreds of knights participating and dozens dying being commonplace, which was one of the reasons the Church vehemently opposed martial arts tournaments: “They die for money and glory, not for God.” a bishop once sharply criticized.
But so what? Knights were lifelong professional soldiers, honing their skills daily, but even in Ayyarasa Road, there were not wars every day. To test one’s martial arts, what could surpass a martial arts tournament?
If a knight dared not compete in a martial arts tournament, even a lame serf could spit on him; if a king dared not compete—even though logically a monarch should not participate in such bloody dangerous matches—but as we have seen, no king has failed to don armor, take up a spear, and appear in the arena, undaunted even if unhorsed or pierced by spears and sharp swords.
If there were a crown-wearing coward, the people would mock him, and his vassals and knights would abandon him.
Amalric I would appear in the last three days of this month, participating not only in one-on-one combat but also in melee combat.
A martial arts tournament with a king participating was like inlaying a gemstone on gold, adding even more luster. The crowds flocked in, the entry parade was even more boisterous and lively, starting with drummers and pipers, the king entering amid the shouts of ministers, clad in gilded chainmail and helmet, draped in a white robe with a gleaming gold-thread-embroidered Ayyarasa Road cross.
Behind him were thirty noble ladies, each stunningly beautiful, dressed in silk or velvet, smiling radiantly; they would sit in the high place of the Hippodrome—watching, and watching only the Victor.
However, besides those young knights who boiled with passion at the sight of these demure noble ladies and could not restrain themselves, some veteran knights paid more attention to the “Lady of Grace” of this martial arts tournament, who was usually the lord’s or king’s wife or daughter—if Amalric I were unmarried, or the Byzantine Princess had not yet entered Ayyarasa Road, today’s “Lady of Grace” would surely be his daughter Sibylla.
No one could deny Princess Sibylla’s beauty, but there were too many things more important than beauty. People watched as the thirty noble ladies escorted the Byzantine Princess Maria and Sibylla to the high platform, and Maria finally took the main seat.
It was as if the last chess piece had fallen into place; they sighed inwardly, but were not too surprised, after all, the knight who ultimately won the laurel wreath, if the king, should present the wreath to “the fairest and noblest lady here”…
If Princess Maria did not receive the wreath, people would not care who Amalric I gave it to—even if it were his daughter Sibylla, rumors of her being unloved by her husband would spread for years.
Moreover, even without the Byzantine princess, Amalric I would not hand the wreath to Sibylla; note that Charlemagne sparked many persistent rumors by refusing to let his daughters marry—people said he had immoral relationships with his daughters, and the priest who wrote his biography said he had illegitimate sons with two daughters.
In fact, it was simply that Charlemagne was reluctant to part with the dowries—each princess needed at least a city as dowry, and he had five daughters; at least according to what Caesar heard from knights, Charlemagne’s daughters did not marry, but were not lonely in bed.
Ah, that’s going a bit far—anyway, sitting beside the empty throne was of course Princess Maria, the highest-status woman here. Her face disappointed some frivolous knights, but more knights became even more eager to compete; whether she was beautiful mattered little, what mattered was that she would become the Queen of Ayyarasa Road.
If she accepted their fealty, they would have a direct path to the heavens for advancement.
Caesar and Baldwin also had very good seats—fortunately they were still princes and attendants: “Are these all knights who have seen saints?”
“Probably,” said Baldwin, a bit excited: “My father and the knights around him have all received blessings.”
On the day they were allowed to leave the castle, it happened to be the competition for knights “not blessed”; indeed, they saw no one emanating holy light, and though the matches were intense, they did not exceed ordinary human limits.
“Look, that’s William Marshal.”
They had a deep impression of this knight with his unusual build; even with his nasal helm on, they recognized him at a glance, but even without recognition, the crowd’s frenzied shouts revealed his identity: “William of London!” they shouted.
This knight had been undefeated since entering the Hippodrome.
William Marshal removed his helmet on horseback and bowed in thanks to the surroundings. As an Englishman, the cheers he received here soured the faces of Frankish knights, but when the host formed teams, he received the most invitations—teams were originally divided by region, with the highest-status person as commander, but there were too few English knights.
Count Raymond of Tripoli hosted this match, arranging the events from few—many—most, that is, one-on-one mounted spear combat, dismounted swordsmanship, and unarmed combat, then to team matches of three or four knights（ deciding themselves whether to bring escorts）, finally melee combat, a match no different from a small war, with all participants entering fully armed, with escorts and armed attendants, fighting until the sunlight faded.
Amalric I first defeated several men, including the Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller, the Duke of Antioch Bohemond, and several other high-status opponents; he generously returned their armor and horses without demanding ransom, earning compliments and praise.
But in combat with William Marshal, he was defeated by this young knight.
This was also Caesar’s first time seeing knights who had seen saints fight head-on—the host loudly announced the knights’ identities, calling out William’s seen saint—Saint Bodo, who could also be called a legendary figure.
The two knights first knelt in prayer, then mounted, saluted each other, and charged face-to-face.
Bright white light swirled around the spears of William and Amalric I as they spurred their horses forward; the Hippodrome fell silent—except for the heavy hoofbeats, the clash was over in a flash. Baldwin and Caesar clearly saw Amalric I falter slightly, perhaps his horse stepped on a small stone, or wind blew into his eyes… his spear tip veered off, spotted by William as an opportunity.
He thrust his spear with full force at that tiny gap; the whistling power shattered the king’s raised round shield, which instantly disintegrated. Amalric I roared, turning his spear tip to strike William’s face, but William’s spear had already pierced the king’s side, penetrating the chainmail and hurling him high!
No, not just Amalric I—even his mount could not withstand this immense force and fell backward, pinning the king beneath.
Knights of the Knights of the Holy Sepulchre and priests stood up; Heraclius, watching the field closely, immediately raised his hand. The king had freed himself from under the horse, William dismounted, and when Amalric I took the two-handed sword handed by his escort, he also took a new weapon from his escort.
This time William was at a disadvantage, not from inferior martial arts or piety, but his broadsword could not withstand the king’s cleaving and snapped in two without warning.
The king had two new great swords brought, but William refused; from his expression and lip movements, he did not believe enemies on the battlefield would give him weapons.
But in the subsequent unarmed combat, William defeated Amalric I again. As we said before, he had God-given long arms that always struck Amalric I first; though somewhat unfair, they could hardly ask him to amputate an arm to compete…
In this fight, who knows how much of the Hippodrome’s facilities were destroyed. Princess Maria paled, perhaps reminded of that mad she-bear by these two.
“I thought you would see Saint Bodo too.” Baldwin whispered as William knelt to the king, begging pardon. Indeed, Saint Bodo shared many similarities with Caesar’s current situation, like initially not believing in God even though his father was a priest（ priests could marry then）, but at sixteen years old, he was kidnapped by thieves, sold to Ireland（ Irish had not yet converted）, and in harsh slavery, he gradually heard God’s voice and received a blessing.
He escaped with several slave companions, later returning to Ireland to preach; in legend, the Irish threw stones at him, but he was unharmed.
“Maybe because you were never a slave to begin with,” Baldwin added.
By then, Amalric I had pulled William up, accepted his apology, and invited him to join his team for the upcoming melee combat.
William of course gladly accepted.
In the melee combat, facing Amalric I was Count Raymond of Tripoli, the most suitable, temporarily replaced by Bohemond, who casually sat in Raymond’s seat, loudly reading out the participants’ names, origins, seen saints’ names, and delineating safe zones for both sides where knights could rest, receive treatment, and captives would be moved.
This match was evenly matched; both Raymond and Amalric I were battle-hardened generals familiar with each other’s combat styles, and from them on, every knight present was exceptional, inflicting extraordinary damage—the monks and priests ran back and forth treating them or saving lives.
Even Baldwin grew tense, staring unblinking at that figure in gilded chainmail; suddenly, he was surrounded by several knights and unhorsed in an instant!
