Chapter 62: Little Fishes
Caesar’s decision was naturally opposed by Baldwin, Heraclius as well, and even the Templar Knights held an attitude of disapproval. But what surprised Caesar was that even Amalric I showed hesitation and did not immediately agree readily.
But from an outsider’s perspective, Amalric I would suffer no losses from this initiative, only benefits.
First: Even though Caesar’s status could now be said to be equal to any knight’s, he was still ultimately a child, which meant that if Amalric I sent him as an envoy, it would be an unquestionable humiliation to the other side.
But had the Templar Knights of Tortosa not openly shown contempt and mockery toward Amalric I by intercepting his ally, the envoy from Eagle’s Nest?
The king would only regret not being able to see their expressions in person.
Second, what Caesar was scheming really had a good chance of success.
Do not say that Amalric I had already prepared for the siege; no lord or knight with any brains would want to attack a solidly built and well-prepared castle.
Tortosa Castle was not even built by the Templar Knights; Baldwin I had built many castles with the dowry from his third wife, and Tortosa was one of them. After it was transferred to the Knights Templar, the order had repaired and reinforced it over the following decades.
Now, though Tortosa Castle could not compare to Holy Cross Castle, it was still an immovable mountain of rock. Moreover, before the Templar Knights of Tortosa set out to intercept those Saracens, they knew they would inevitably face rebuke and attack from Amalric I.
Before this, they must have stockpiled enough food, water, and other supplies.
Even the king could not be sure how long this siege warfare would last? Three days, ten days, a month, or even a year—such things had happened before.
He was also well aware that he could not hold out for more than three months. As Caesar walked through the camp, he saw charcoal about to be burned; what Amalric I saw was a yawning abyss ready to devour every gold coin of his. Even the conscripted militia were paid daily rewards, though not much, but consider the numbers…
The mercenaries went without saying, and a prolonged siege would breed slackness in many hearts; they would quietly desert or just mind their own business, or more likely gallop about plundering nearby merchants and pilgrims.
If it were in a heathen city, such behavior might even be encouraged. But in the sphere of influence along Ayyarasa Road, merchants and pilgrims were also under Amalric I’s protection. The king did not want them coming to complain, forcing him to deal with the mess in distress.
Third, likewise hidden in Amalric I’s heart and not spoken aloud was that he had faintly sensed that between Caesar and Baldwin, the dominant one was Caesar, not his son.
He was very worried that after his death, a prominent minister unshakeable by anyone would appear in the court along Ayyarasa Road.
If Caesar could not produce any proof of status proving he was the son of a count or grand duke, even if he had made such an oath, the king would not continue to tolerate him staying along Ayyarasa Road.
Now he had voluntarily offered to negotiate with that brutal and ravenous beast—was this not exactly what suited Amalric I’s wishes?
But Amalric I had the same question as the Templar Knights: what benefit did this bring him? His position was now secure, he was well-liked, and his future was plainly bright and smooth. He was not a bishop who could use such a sacrifice to make the populace kneel at his feet and drive them to riots.
Moreover, this was not asceticism or prayer; if he failed, he would of course be a clown, and even if he succeeded, would those ignorant people understand his intent? They might even think their Little Saint had betrayed them, deliberately taking away their chance to make money.
Amalric I did not know that about seven hundred years later, someone would say: when all the evidence points to one answer, that answer, no matter how implausible it seems, is the only correct explanation.
But he was now beginning to believe that Caesar was indeed that kind of naturally benevolent person with great love, a good person.
He was of course more willing to keep such a good person by Baldwin’s side, by the side of his possible second son or even that son’s offspring—as long as he did not harbor thoughts of usurpation, even if he became a powerful minister, until his death, the one sitting on the throne along Ayyarasa Road would still carry Amalric I’s bloodline.
But thinking of the possibly endless siege, the king could not help but hesitate; this was not a war that would break Ayyarasa Road’s bones, but it would wear away a layer of his flesh.
And he planned to launch a second expedition against Egypt within three years; for this expedition, he needed to make full preparations and could not allow himself to be deceived again like the first time, returning to Ayyarasa Road empty-handed despite victory, mocked by countless people.
In the end, he agreed to Caesar’s request.
However, he prepared for Caesar a herald, a herald, four attendants; they flew Amalric I’s flag, following behind Caesar, their faces showing worry but still majestic—this was the proper entourage for a king’s envoy.
Caesar was also somewhat surprised; he had thought Amalric I would just give him a guide and throw him out to walk alone into Tortosa Castle.
Even more unexpectedly, not long after he left the camp heading toward Tortosa Castle, at the edge of the rolling hills, he saw a familiar figure.
“Geoffrey!” he called out in surprise, and the Templar Knight just nodded at him boredly.
Behind the Templar Knight followed a sergeant and two attendants, holding the familiar black-and-white flag, and he was dressed very formally, wearing a helmet, chainmail, a robe, holding a spear, and carrying a long sword and dagger.
And when he approached, Caesar realized there were actually four sword-and-shield infantrymen behind him—the heavy infantry of the Knights Templar we mentioned before; like the knights, they underwent rigorous training and could play a great role in siege warfare.
“Wasn’t it said that the Templar Knights would not interfere in this matter?” Caesar asked.
“Uh, actually… it’s like this,” Geoffrey scratched his chin, “but did you see my horse?”
“I saw it.” A Percheron horse, deep brown all over, very sturdy and beautiful. Small ears, long neck, slender and powerful hooves—it was clearly a good horse worth at least fifty gold coins.
“This was given to me by Amalric I.”
Facing Caesar’s puzzled expression, Geoffrey said without shame: “And a box sent by the prince, containing a gem-encrusted Damascus knife, two golden cups, a set of ivory chess pieces, and a gem gold collar…”
Geoffrey counted them one by one.
Did Caesar not know what these were? Baldwin had once shown them to him piece by piece; they were the prince’s favorite gifts collected from childhood.
They had come outside the city with Amalric I, and as an attendant, he could not carry too much luggage, but a small box was allowed. So Baldwin had packed his favorite items, along with clothes and weapons.
By the quantity and contents Geoffrey described, Baldwin might have given him all his private collection.
“I originally didn’t want to agree, but who could resist when he gave so much?” Geoffrey estimated that it was at least over a thousand gold coins—glancing at Caesar—it seemed this child’s value was rising higher and higher.
Caesar only felt a lump in his throat, speechless. He had to admit that at first, he had thoughts of using Baldwin and had not yet formed the idea of staying by his side no matter what; his thoughts and ideas were independent, mature, even somewhat arrogant.
He was also well aware that he was not a nine-year-old child, at least not in soul. When he saw a real nine-year-old child displaying purity and nobility before him, he felt utterly ashamed.
After a long while, Geoffrey heard him say, “Please do not… Sir, if possible, please keep these things well preserved, do not sell or give them away; I thank you immensely and will redeem them at three times the price.”
“What are you talking about,” Geoffrey eyed him sideways, “Templar Knights have no private property; the prince’s donation will only be handed over to the order by me, and the order will use these things to aid poor pilgrims…”
“If it were the Templar Knights from a hundred years ago saying this, I would believe it; now… ” Caesar said bluntly, after all Geoffrey was not exactly a rule-abiding fellow, “then aid me a bit; I am an Isaacite slave, a lowly little attendant; even now as an attendant, I have no savings…
For a weak, pitiful, helpless, but… but very pious Christian like me, shouldn’t you give some alms when you see me?
I do not ask for much; just give me what Baldwin gave you.”
He spoke quickly, but Geoffrey heard every word clearly; the Templar Knight let out an extremely long and ambiguous sigh—like some special performance by a dwarf or clown—they could expel quite inelegant and foul-smelling gas for a long time.
But in any case, with Geoffrey by his side, many of the speeches and tools Caesar had prepared could be put away.
After several days of travel, when they entered the sphere of influence of Tortosa Castle, they encountered several sergeants scouting around—hopefully not there to set fires—who first saw the Knights Templar’s flag, then Amalric I’s flag, and while vigilant, could not help but feel anxious.
After all, the Knights Templar along Ayyarasa Road had previously said they would stand in absolute neutrality—seeing both flags at once, the Templar members at Tortosa Castle could not help worrying that the Grand Master had ultimately changed his mind and would join the king to campaign against them.
They quickly brought Geoffrey’s group back; though the ten-year-old child behind Geoffrey was Amalric I’s envoy, they only thought it was a roundabout way of humiliation.
And because of Geoffrey, they easily met the commander of Tortosa Castle’s knights, that Walter de Remesny whom Geoffrey called arrogant, rude, irascible, and unruly, along with several knight commanders—knight commander is a position in the Knights Templar, generally overseeing ten Templar Knights.
Walter did not even look at Caesar, ordering someone to bring Geoffrey a chair directly; Geoffrey reminded him there was still Amalric I’s envoy here, and the other immediately flew into a rage, shouting loudly.
“I regarded you as my brother, yet you collude with others to humiliate me; whether blinded by the gleam of gold or bewitched by vain promises, I will strip that robe from you, drive you from the castle, and stuff this shameless dwarf into a catapult basket, hurling him straight into Amalric I’s camp!”
For this situation, Geoffrey and Caesar were fully prepared; Geoffrey showed no panic, instead saying calmly, “You regarded me as a brother, and I of course regard you as a brother, Walter, but for the sake of our past ties, please let me finish speaking—
The Knights Templar headquarters along Ayyarasa Road has decided not to interfere in the matter between you and Amalric I. And my coming here today was not under orders from the order, but entirely of my own volition.
Do not underestimate this envoy; though the gemstone is small, its brilliance is myriad, surpassing heaps of stone.
Even from afar in Tortosa, you should have heard the name of the Little Saint, not to mention that he has already sworn an oath before God with Prince Baldwin to be each other’s guarantor; this is the same as our swearing together before God to be true brotherly allies, with no falsehood.
He has not yet become a knight due to age restrictions, not any flaw in strength or virtue; I can vouch for him, Walter—he has the qualification to speak with you face to face.”
Walter hesitated. Clearly, he had heard the name of the Little Saint, but he did not yet know that Amalric I’s son had sworn an oath with this child—what did that mean? It meant he was like the knight Rodrigo of Castile, able when necessary to force Baldwin to swear or swear on Baldwin’s behalf, and demand the latter honor that oath.
This could include a permanent territory, a war, even interference in the choice of heir, or even the Church’s long-desired right to the Holy Land.
