Chapter 59: Swear It
“If back then,” Caesar asked, “I hadn’t directly killed those servants who intended harm against me, but instead appealed to you or fled…”
Baldwin closed the book and, as Caesar had said, assumed the scenario for a moment.
“Well,” he said with hesitation, “perhaps you would have been sent away.” He added, “I know you are a benevolent person, but if you are not only benevolent but also indecisive, you are not suited to live on Ayyarasa Road. You would die. Even for your own good, we would have to send you far away.”
This was an answer that could be anticipated. Caesar’s heart was calm: “And what about you?”
“Me?” Baldwin chuckled in surprise. “Not long before you arrived here, when I was still healthy—shortly after my ninth birthday—I executed a vile thief under the supervision of my father and teacher.”
“He came from Lower Lorraine and was a lord,” he continued. “For that reason, my father allowed him to build a castle on a small territory near Jaffa. At the time, he generously promised that all pilgrims passing through his lands would receive safety, warmth, and free food and water in his castle.
Afterward, he seemed to honestly fulfill his promise. Group after group of pilgrims entered his small castle, rested for a night, and left full of energy, filled with gratitude for this master, swearing to pray for him at Christ’s tomb.
In fact, many people did leave, but some stayed forever.
He was a cunning hunter. You know, pilgrims mostly travel in groups, by village or parish, or even as a whole city. There are also wealthy pilgrims who request the lord to dispatch knights for paid escort or hire mercenaries.
But some naive believers think that since the king has issued a harsh law that ‘anyone who harms pilgrims will be put to death,’ and with God’s constant watch, there should be no crime on this land flowing with Christ’s blood—they entered the castle and, under the temptation of wine, revealed their secrets.
Their kin and friends are thousands of miles away, their purses filled with gold or silver, and the Holy Land has no relatives or friends of theirs. Even if they have a surname, it is not prominent.” At this point, Baldwin glanced at Caesar. “They were delighted to get a private room, only to end up either strangled in the night or smashed to death with a hammer.
This viscount was very cautious in his actions. He didn’t even sell young victims to heathens as slaves like some people do. All the corpses were thrown naked into the dense forest, where beasts could finish the work for him overnight. Guess how he was discovered?”
“How was he discovered?”
“Heraclius casually used his castle for a mathematics problem for me, which was much more interesting than plain numbers. He had me calculate the monthly expenditure needed to maintain a castle with fifteen knights, thirty escorts, fifty armed attendants, twenty craftsmen, and a hundred laborers…
Then, after subtracting those expenditures, based on his income and calculating one loaf of bread per pilgrim, how many people could he still accommodate?”
“A huge discrepancy?”
“More than huge—he should have gone bankrupt long ago,” Baldwin said. “Once there was doubt, the rest was easy. Heraclius borrowed a few Knights of the Holy Sepulchre from the king. They observed and watched day and night outside the small castle. When the servants loaded the corpses into manure barrels and transported them out of the castle,” he made a gesture, “caught red-handed.”
“He was a lord and shouldn’t have been hanged—he even begged for trial by duel, but no knight was willing to accept. In the end, Amalric I thought this might be good teaching material. Although Heraclius felt I wasn’t yet an escort and the lesson was a bit early, who knew if another fool like that would come along later?
But I didn’t do well in that lesson,” Baldwin said with regret. “At that time, I hadn’t yet received the blessing. Though I had more strength than my peers,…” He fell silent for a moment. “He suffered a lot, and I suffered a lot. The axe slipped from my hand and nearly hit my toes. His head was still cursing and uttering curses when it hit the ground.
Sometimes I wonder if I contracted leprosy because I caused a Christian to suffer undeserved torment, and thus God punished me so.”
Definitely not, Caesar thought to himself. Even if anyone was at fault, it was Amalric I.
A hand gently rested on his knee. “You saw Geoffrey today. What did he say to you?”
Caesar rarely hid things from Baldwin, especially not about going to see a Templar Knight. “He told me some things about the battlefield. Baldwin, I am worried. I… I may not be the kind of decisive killer you think I am. I feel mercy for the weak and cannot judge others based on my own ideas… I…”
“What’s there to worry about?” Baldwin replied unexpectedly lightly. “I order you to do it! I am your master; you must obey my commands—the blood flowing from the sword does not dull it, nor does it dull you. If there is any sin, let it all fall on me!”
As he spoke, he carefully observed Caesar’s expression. Of course, he said this to free Caesar from the shackles he had placed on himself.
Baldwin hadn’t understood Caesar at first, but now he knew at least three or four parts of him. At least he wasn’t the kind who could slaughter pregnant women and infants without qualms just because someone said, “Killing heathens is not a sin but a merit.”
But to say he was as sentimental as a woman, unable to raise a sharp sword, would be deliberate slander.
“You’re worried you’ll degenerate into the kind of person you also despise,” Baldwin said, gripping Caesar’s hand earnestly. “Yes, I’ve seen them. They came full of love for God, but under the threats of famine, pain, and death, they had to become unthinking beasts. So,” he asked solemnly, “what kind of person do you think I am?
“A good person. In this era and this place, undoubtedly a good person. ‘People call me ‘Little Saint,” Caesar answered. ‘But I never take it to heart—not out of arrogance, but because I know it’s just people’s misplaced praise and expectations of me. But I think you are a saint, Baldwin.”
Anyone can be a saint with empty hands. Baldwin, with status and power, still does not indulge himself arbitrarily—that is truly worthy of admiration.
“Then trust me. Just obey my commands. I will never make you do things that violate your own oaths, never make you become someone even you feel estranged from. As long as I am here, you will always be Caesar. Will you swear an oath with me?”
“I will.”
————
Heraclius had already fallen asleep, but after being woken by the two children and hearing their wishes, he felt a moment of hesitation.
“Do you know what you’re saying?” he asked Baldwin. “If you swear such an oath, you’ll be taking on another person’s destiny.”
“I understand,” Baldwin replied. “But only such an oath can ensure Caesar remains forever free.” Although Caesar was his attendant, once they both became escorts or even knights for Amalric I, his master would no longer be Baldwin, but Amalric I.
If Amalric I were just a lord of Francia, things might be manageable, but the Crusaders originally used a ‘collective leadership’ system: “As stipulated from the beginning, no one, noble or lowly, may oppose any army orders.”
Although counties and kingdoms have now been established, this ‘law’ still holds some force, especially on the battlefield.
If someone deliberately exploited this to make trouble for Caesar, his situation would become difficult. He would either have to abandon his former self or be forced to leave the army—but under the condition where every King of Ayyarasa Road has been the Crusader leader, would he really have to go to a monastery?
“Will you also trust Baldwin?” Heraclius asked Caesar.
“I trust him.”
Heraclius turned to Baldwin a second time. “But in that case—though we all say that after going through the choosing ceremony together, we become brothers under God’s watch—this kind of oath isn’t really that reliable, to be honest. I mean Amalric, Raymond, Bohemond, and…” He hesitated but still said it: “Jocelin, the Count of Edessa.”
This name was rarely mentioned in Holy Cross Castle. It was a scandal.
Edessa, Antioch, Tripoli, and Ayyarasa Road should have been natural Christian nation allies, but in 1144 when the Zengid dynasty attacked Edessa, neither Ayyarasa Road, Antioch, nor Tripoli lifted a finger—there were of course many reasons… but saying it aloud shamed everyone.
Not to mention that Count of Edessa Jocelin joined the Second Crusade in 1149, was captured by the Saracens, imprisoned, and died in 1159 without anyone coming to ransom him.
“But if you swear such an oath, Baldwin, you will no longer be Caesar’s master. You two will be completely equal. You can command him, and he can command you. You must support each other and guarantee one another. This contract must bind not only you but also your offspring. If one side breaks the oath—no one will ever trust your loyalty again.”
“Of course I understand,” Baldwin said sincerely. “Besides, don’t I also need an upright person to hold my reins?” He turned to Caesar. “You worry you’ll change—couldn’t I? He looked at his arm. “God’s trial—who knows when it will end? I know many people go mad in such difficult journeys… Why couldn’t I be one of them?”
His gaze was steady. “That’s good. My constraint on Caesar can shield him from others’ malice; his constraint on me can shield him from my malice. He trusts me, and I trust he will be a loyal person—no, not just loyal to me, but loyal to God, because the path he walks is the same as the one God points out to mankind.”
“Your father will be unhappy.”
“At first, but not after thinking it over,” Baldwin said. “The thing he’s always worried about is resolved, at my expense. Caesar’s loyalty must extend to my offspring or my brother, or even his offspring. Isn’t that a good thing?”
Heraclius was silent for a moment. “I must seek the king’s approval.”
“Go ahead,” Baldwin said. “He will agree.”
Baldwin still understood his father somewhat. Amalric I was furious but still granted his request. As Baldwin said, this undoubtedly placed him on equal footing with a slave—of course, not that Caesar could immediately become the Crown Prince of Ayyarasa Road, but they bore responsibility for each other and could vouch for one another.
“There was a recent example like this, though both sides were reluctant.”
Heraclius said, “Have you heard of the knight Rodrigo of Castile? He was a knight of Castile. Once, Castile’s King Sancho allied with his brother Alfonso to attack another brother, Garcia. In the process, Alfonso allied with their sister Urraca—who knows what happened—but Sancho died.
After Sancho’s death, his heir was Alfonso, who did not have the trust of Castile’s knights. But no one could force a king to swear an oath. Then Rodrigo stepped forward and demanded the king swear an oath with him—that oath. As a knight who had once captured five Moorish kings, this demand was not humiliating.
Alfonso had to accept, and then Rodrigo demanded he swear it in the Church of Saint Agatha. The king had no choice but to swear… Though afterward, out of humiliation, he exiled Rodrigo. But in any case, he did not strip him of his title or territory. And after Rodrigo established himself in heathen territory through his own strength and wisdom, he still fulfilled his obligations.
Vast amounts of money flowed into Castile’s treasury. When Alfonso’s ward was usurped of the throne, he boldly marched out and cruelly executed the traitor. After every war, he selected the best spoils of war to offer to the king, even when he himself was already a leader…
And in 1099, after he died as a Christian king, his widow could not hold Valencia, and it was King Alfonso who provided the final protection.”
Heraclius watched Caesar, hoping the child would understand: this transaction seemed like Baldwin was at a loss, but in truth, Caesar would have to pay more. Baldwin was still afflicted with his chronic illness and might not live past thirty—once the oath was sworn, Ayyarasa Road would gain a strong arm to support the kingdom for forty or fifty years…
Others might not know, but Heraclius knew Caesar bore some omens. What made him shudder was that the saint Caesar sensed had not named himself, yet he could still use the power He granted. And in all records and scriptures, the only one without a name was…
“Very well,” he reached out to stroke Caesar’s face. “If this is your wish.”
