Chapter 60: Escort
“Caesar!”
“Coming!” Caesar, hugging a large pile of heavy wolf skins, ran across the sandy land and happened to meet Baldwin, who was carrying a large silver platter piled high with meat pies. The two friends only had time to briefly exchange a glance before rushing past each other—running too slowly would draw Amalric I’s displeasure, and they would really get beaten with a stick.
This stick was much thicker than the ones used in lessons, and the force was much heavier too.
Caesar had been hit only once, and he no longer fancifully imagined it as the inevitable hardship of leaving childhood behind. He wanted to go back to being a child!
He handed the wolf skins to an attendant, and another attendant brought two large wine jugs. He struggled to carry them to Amalric I’s tent, just as Baldwin came out from inside. “Did you bring the cups?” the Prince asked in a low voice.
“I did.” Caesar had tied his belt tightly, which allowed him to maintain an upright posture, reduce some of the torment of the chainmail on his spine, and tuck some things into his sleeveless coat, such as Amalric I’s golden cup and the silver cups for entertaining guests.
These silver cups were very likely to be generously gifted to guests by Amalric I—as long as they were equally generous, allowing the King to conscript farmers and craftsmen from their villages and towns, and if possible, provide a few knights.
When Caesar collected these precious vessels from the castle steward, he had even signed for them. He had carefully checked the contents of the register too. Now he had nearly two hundred gold coins in savings, but if he lost a cup, besides compensation, he would also get beaten and ridiculed.
Baldwin placed the cups on a slightly smaller silver platter and nodded toward Caesar. Caesar lifted the heavy curtain for him, and the two entered together.
“Come pour wine for us, escort!” someone shouted.
Caesar looked up—it was none other than the plump Abbot John. His round face was full of teasing, but without malice, just ribbing him and Baldwin.
The others were not so much. To the right of Abbot John sat the Count of Tripoli. When Caesar poured wine for the Abbot and tried to pour more, he rudely moved his wine cup away.
When Amalric I had an Isaacite slave serve as Prince Baldwin’s attendant, he had been so displeased that he argued loudly with the King. If not for his own guilt—really unable to have his only son David continue serving at the Prince’s side—he probably would not have backed down so easily.
But when Prince Baldwin received the blessing, even though his symptoms had not disappeared, Count Raymond of Tripoli had come before the King in immense joy, pleading to let David return to Prince Baldwin’s side. Amalric I was of course willing, but Prince Baldwin politely refused. He said, “I’m already used to the room having only Caesar and me…”
This slap was truly crisp and resounding, but the stubborn Raymond did not hold it against Baldwin. He directed all his hatred and contempt toward the “upstart” Caesar. He believed Caesar was a devil’s envoy, first bewitching the King, then the Prince, and further bewitching the ignorant populace—allowing a lowly nameless person to climb to his current status.
Amalric I allowing Caesar and Baldwin to hold the Choosing ceremony together had made him pale with anger. Even though Caesar had received the saint’s favor, he still did not change his view—after all, there had been precedents of those blessed who later fell into depravity.
Not to mention just a few days ago, Amalric I not only announced promoting Baldwin early to “novice knight” and allowing Caesar to become his own “escort,” but also declared that they had already sworn oaths before God, turning the one-way “subordinate relationship” into a two-way “bond relationship”…
Raymond nearly fainted on the spot.
“Baldwin,” facing this blatant difficulty, Caesar’s expression unchanged, called out loudly: “You come pour wine for Lord Raymond.”
Baldwin had just filled the wine for his father and his lord, and upon hearing this, he looked up, his expression calm as he walked over, switching places with Caesar. Facing the Prince, Raymond had to move his cup back, staring as the deep red wine gradually filled the silver cup.
“Pfft!” Abbot John laughed in a most disrespectful way, completely ignoring Raymond’s fierce glare.
“Hmph~” The second low laugh came from Duke of Antioch Bohemond. Raymond whipped his head around to stare at the colleague sitting across from him. “Why bother a child?” Bohemond said. He moved his wine cup to the edge of the table, allowing the Caesar carrying the heavy wine jug to save some effort. After the cup was full, he nudged it back in and nodded mildly at Caesar.
Caesar humbly lowered his head. He paid no mind to Bohemond’s overture.
Children are copies of their fathers. No matter how stupid or impulsive Abigail was, who would believe his current appearance had nothing to do with Bohemond? Moreover, Baldwin had refused everyone, which included unwillingness to accept a “traitor,” but wasn’t it precisely because someone filled the sudden vacancy?
David wanted to return to Baldwin’s side—didn’t Abigail want to as well?
Sitting to the right of the Duke of Antioch were several nobles from around Ayyarasa Road, including Berion of Ibelin. He smiled at Caesar. This child’s origins were certainly questionable, but since Prince Baldwin cherished him and the Countess of Jaffa protected him, he could not harbor malice toward Caesar—besides, Caesar was genuinely likable.
Many shared Berion’s thoughts, some even wondering if they had any unmarried nieces or nieces.
In another four years, this child could marry. If all went smoothly, by then Amalric I should have campaigned in Egypt or even triumphed. Then on the battlefield, with a little guidance, he was sure to take a few Saracen heads. At that point, with a little push, he could be directly promoted to novice knight or even knight…
Oh, that would truly be a great boon!
Caesar completely failed to notice those men’s strange smiles.
Ever since becoming escorts, he and Baldwin—Baldwin was nominally a “novice knight,” but still performed escort duties at Amalric I’s side. At first Caesar could not quite understand, since Baldwin was still a patient.
But once truly starting as an “escort,” he realized it was very necessary.
As we already know, after a lord or knight’s infant is born, they receive baptism within three days. After baptism, handed to the wet nurse and maidservants, under the mother’s knee they can live carefree until six or seven. Then they are sent to another castle as attendants, where older attendants teach them obedience with sticks, priests if available teach them numbers and writing, and the castle’s mistress teaches them etiquette, music, dance, and so on.
Becoming an escort at fourteen means their lessons turn a new page, and their teachers become true knights.
But regrettably, knights do not know how to teach a child—or rather, that is how they were taught themselves—they can only demonstrate by personal example how to be a knight.
Escorts follow them constantly, learning in detail every vessel, the shape and material of armor and weapons, maintenance and usage, witnessing their life, meetings, even following into combat. They meet every visiting guest, every dangerous enemy, and every cunning merchant, learning how to haggle with the last.
Thus, when escorts can be promoted to knights, they are thoroughly familiar, able to seamlessly shift from one status to another without unease or mishaps.
But suddenly shifting from prince and attendant to true escorts, both Baldwin and Caesar were a bit…
They had no room anymore. Caesar had originally worried about sleeping in a big room full of bedbugs and fleas with other escorts, but Heraclius regretfully told him no, he would share with Baldwin, sleeping at the door of Amalric I’s room. They got a large bear skin—Amalric I was not stingy about that.
Caesar just looked at it and felt it was familiar, especially the wound on the left side of the head… It couldn’t be from that she-bear released to kill during the welcoming ceremony, could it?
When the priests sang hymns at five or six in the morning, they had to wake up—lazy escorts get the stick. After waking, they brought water for Amalric I to wash up, helped him change clothes, wipe his face, rinse his mouth, and served him wine—Amalric I was accustomed to drinking a large cup of mead in the morning.
Once Amalric I went to work—from morning prayer to the hour of terce, seven-thirty to nine—he would review documents and check account books, then ministers and generals arrived one after another. If no multi-person meetings, they waited in another room by status and urgency. Baldwin and Caesar had to split up: one to greet guests, log or take their weapons, and tend their horses.
At the hour of sext, noon, Amalric I would dine with his future wife. Baldwin and Caesar handled passing food, pouring wine, and carving meat. Of course, it was not as simple as that; the escorts bore responsibility for any dissatisfaction from the master—meaning getting the stick.
After lunch, Amalric I continued public duties or practiced martial arts and Horse Riding until the hour of none, two or three in the afternoon, when he relaxed, inviting Heraclius to play chess or read to him.
At this time Amalric I might find them standing by obtrusive and send them to do lessons, practice Horse Riding or shooting.
Sometimes Count Raymond of Tripoli or Duke of Antioch Bohemond would visit, perhaps with a few knights favored by the King, and the King would send Baldwin or Caesar to fetch them to the castle.
They enjoyed a lavish dinner at evening prayer, around six… Poets played the lute nearby, accompanying songs; clowns and dwarfs occasionally came in to tumble.
Of course, Baldwin and Caesar continued standing behind serving them.
After dinner, depending on Amalric I’s mood, he rested or gambled—though this was behavior condemned by the Church—but entertainment was indeed pitifully scarce.
If Amalric I decided to sleep, did you think Caesar and Baldwin could wrap in the bear skin and lie down?
No chance. They still had to tend Amalric I’s horse, maintain his gear, polish the helmet, broadsword, dagger, oil the chainmail… Then check the stables, corridors, every space in the tower to ensure all was safe before they could go sleep…
Oh, you ask, when do they wash up, eat, use the toilet?
Of course, squeezing it in amid these duties!
After a few days, Caesar deeply understood why in those manuscript illustrations, escorts—whether fully armored or in thin cloth—always looked listless and dejected.
“In fact, you two are still lucky,” Heraclius said sincerely when checking on them, that is, bringing priests to ease their fatigue: “Byzantium’s princess Maria is not yet the mistress of Holy Cross Castle, and Princess Sibylla—her status is indeed awkward—so you don’t have to serve them. If you added them and their handmaids, then you’d have headaches.”
Baldwin widened his eyes: “Don’t they think we have any time or energy left?”
“Saying that won’t make a good knight. A lady’s command cannot be refused,” Heraclius said solemnly.
“I’d rather go to war now,” Baldwin said.
“Otherwise,” Heraclius said, “do you think why knights go wild at the mention of combat?”
Baldwin and Caesar both burst out laughing.
This fulfilling-to-the-point-of-nausea life likely lasted several months.
In this era, not only love was slow. Summoning knights took time, conscripting craftsmen and soldiers took time, merchants flocked and negotiated with the King, then each prepared fodder and supplies, which took time.
They also needed to fell wood and build various siege apparatus. Caesar and Baldwin had gone to see; for now nothing was visible, but the smallest was over two men high, the largest possibly exceeding the city wall.
But Amalric I had already sent an envoy to the Templar Knights at Tortosa Castle, conveying the King’s order to hand over the castle’s key and surrender.
“Do you think they will?” Caesar asked.
“They won’t,” Baldwin said, looking at the distant dust: “My father wouldn’t either.”
