Chapter 70: Shawwar’s Triple Windings
“Why not?” Caesar asked strangely, “On Ayyarasa Road, I already asked you if you had been ‘selected’, and you told me that you hadn’t even participated in the ‘Choosing ceremony’, because at that time your father could no longer afford the money.”
Moreover, at that time Longinus’s eldest brother had already taken control of most of the castle’s affairs, just waiting for his father to die so he could legitimately send all his younger brothers away. He would rather spend that money, which could buy a vineyard, on his own son.
“I am willing to pay this money for you,” Caesar said, “and I won’t press you to repay it urgently. You can pay me back slowly later, and I have also asked my teacher, who will issue a charter for you. Although you are past the age to participate in the ‘Choosing ceremony’, this is not without precedent.”
There have been some people who, because of an unexpected gift or inheritance, decided to eliminate this unwillingness, even if they were already twenty, thirty, or even sixty years old, they could still seek a charter from the local bishop and then hold the ceremony as overage candidates—of course, this practice required more money and more concessions.
But in Ayyarasa Road, Longinus’s status and age were not issues at all.
“I know.” Longinus replied, “Others may not understand you, but how could I not? You are a person who feels mercy for commoners he has never met and probably never will, and helps them. Am I not still your attendant? Although I cannot be as noble and outstanding as you, I believe I have not betrayed your trust and have completed every task you assigned.
But before I met you, I…”
At this point, he felt somewhat ashamed, “I worked as a broker in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, secretly profiting from the pilgrims’ piety—I worked for the priests of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and with this convenience, I could bring two or three people into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre for pilgrimage every day. That was one way I made money.
Lord, I have entered the Church of the Holy Sepulchre countless times and knelt at Christ’s feet in prayer countless times, but he has never responded to me, nor have I ever felt a call from any saint.
I think it is precisely because I did such blasphemous things and accumulated so much sin that I could not possibly be selected. If so, why waste your money and the Patriarch’s favor in vain?”
“But if you put it that way,” Caesar said without looking back as he walked ahead of him, “what about those priests who dig money out of pilgrims’ pockets before allowing them to step into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre?
Since you have been in Ayyarasa Road for so long, you should know that the saint’s favor never seems to be based on what ordinary people can feel or see.
Who knows?
Perhaps Witt is also a pious fellow.” At this point, he felt somewhat nauseated.
Longinus, however, seemed comforted by him. “Perhaps you are right,” he said after lowering his head and thinking for a while, “Even a guy like that can receive a blessing, so I am at least a bit better than that guy.”
“So, do you want to try?”
“Good heavens, I am already thirty years old, my young master. I believe anyone who hears about this will laugh their heads off.”
“They also say you are a slave’s slave, and you don’t care about that, so why care about those people’s sour words? Even if you are not selected, you have a gold master willing to pay for you, a priest willing to pray for you—do they have that?”
Longinus could not help but smile, recalling those days spent in dull, dim taverns, those people who made him swear never to become like them.
They really were a group of good people. Without them, he might have fallen long ago and never met Caesar—a master who, apart from being a bit young, could almost be called flawless.
He stopped at the end of the stairs. He knew that neither Baldwin nor Caesar would easily allow others into their rooms. He set down the copper pot, bowed to Caesar, and left.
Caesar watched him turn the corner of the corridor before pushing open the door. He first placed the clean linen on the box, then carried in the two copper pots—one with boiling water, the other with ordinary river water. He placed the river water in the corner of the room, then picked up the third pot, which contained purified water.
He had heard that the Ancient Egyptians had a device or medicine for purifying river water, but with the invasion of foreign enemies, it had vanished into the river of history like most inventions. He used the charcoal purification method: after washing the charcoal clean and letting it sit in the water for two days and one night, clean water could be obtained.
Unfortunately, this method could not be promoted or popularized. Because people today do not understand why putting charcoal in water makes it clean and sweet. They would only think it is witchcraft. Making a fuss would be one thing, but the trouble is the ever-watchful Church and those with ulterior motives.
On expedition, Baldwin could not bathe every day and could only rely on wiping to keep his skin dry and clean.
This was a very important step for a leper; any infection or damage would cause the skin there to rot rapidly and be hard to heal.
He endured the pain to wipe himself, only letting Caesar help with places he could not see, like his back. While twisting his body to check his elbows and the backs of his knees—places easily overlooked—Baldwin reminded Caesar to put on gloves. Leather gloves could perfectly block possible harm.
Although Caesar had said he was one of those low-sensitivity people, meaning he was not easily infected with leprosy, Baldwin still could not feel at ease.
Before it worsened, he still felt he had received heaven’s favor. After it worsened, he no longer dared to take his condition lightly.
Fortunately, after Heraclius got the prescription Caesar wrote, he gathered almost all the medicinal herbs on it in just a few days—except for some plants only found on the Far East continent.
But he also said that Ayyarasa Road was originally a great city connecting east and west, a center of religion, economy, and commerce. Since Eastern silk and porcelain could travel thousands of miles without damage, there was no reason dried herbs would stump these merchants.
The only difficulty was keeping these merchants silent.
“But if your father can take Egypt, or at least Fustat or Damascus, those merchants will keep this secret tightly guarded for the sake of their trade routes and lives.”
“Baldwin?” Caesar reminded softly. Baldwin then realized the wound on his back had already been treated with ointment. Next were the places he could reach himself. He hurriedly took the ointment with his left hand.
“How do you feel now?” Caesar asked.
“Very good.” It was precisely because of its immediate effect that he felt greed. If the medicine had no effect, he would not have let Caesar try a second time.
His left hand had originally shown the most obvious symptoms. When it first started worsening, he could barely feel it. Now, when using this hand, it felt like wearing a thin leather glove—the sensation was not as sharp, but it did not hinder his daily tasks or martial training. Mounting a horse and fighting were no problem.
After applying the ointment and waiting a bit for the smell to dissipate completely, Baldwin put on his silk shirt.
Normally they did not dress like this. As attendants, they had to feed horses, polish helmets, carry things, and run errands. Silk would tear or get dirty in an instant.
Even Sultans and Caliphs might not afford such luxury—after all, war reparations at this time were still measured in silk robes.
But today was slightly different. Today, the envoy from Fustat would have an audience with the King and present credentials.
Although he knew the content would involve pleas, accusations, and threats, it was a rare opportunity for the two children. The King had long decided to have them attend and gain valuable experience.
And before this, Heraclius had specially given them a lesson to roughly understand the current state of the Fatimid Dynasty.
Why would Amaury I choose this moment to attack Fustat? Of course there was a reason. And this reason dated back to when the current Fatimid Caliph Atid ascended the throne.
Atid was also a second son. When his elder brother succeeded, he was just a boy and died not long after. When he succeeded, he was still a child who knew nothing.
“He is about your age. To be honest, from the news brought back by the merchants we bribed, he is a quite ignorant and cowardly child, yet full of ambition. His original Grand Vizier, that is, his Prime Minister, was an old, reliable good person. But this minister died soon after, and his son inherited the position.
At this time, there was a cunning and treacherous fellow named Shawwar. Through flattery, he gained the young Caliph’s favor and thus killed that young man to take his place.
But his actions aroused dissatisfaction among some in the Fatimid court. They drove him out and elected another to be Prime Minister.”
“Is this Shawwar the one who promised two million gold coins to my father?”
“Yes, that’s him. He briefly served as Grand Vizier, but when people opposed him, he fled to Nur al-Din of the Seljuk Zengid dynasty.
Nur al-Din then sent his two generals to Fustat. They killed Shawwar’s opponents, but Shawwar probably did not expect his action to be releasing the tiger to swallow the wolf—the wolf was gone, but the tiger would not leave.
So he sent an envoy to request your father, our King, to send troops to drive out Nur al-Din’s army—how?”
“They are all Saracens, right?” Baldwin asked.
“All of them. As I said before,” Heraclius said, “We have the Latin Church and the Orthodox Church; they have the ‘Traditionalists’ and the ‘Orthodox’. The ‘Traditionalists’ select suitable leaders through consultation or election, while the ‘Orthodox’ prefer leaders with the blood of the Prophet Muhammad. The Fatimid Dynasty is ‘Orthodox’, and the Seljuk Zengid dynasty is ‘Traditionalists’.”
“Is it similar to the relationship between the Ancient Rome elder council and Caesar and his descendants?”
Heraclius nodded in agreement: “Exactly, but in the end they are two fruits on the same vine, so it can also be said that they are all our enemies.”
He smiled: “But that Shawwar does not seem to think so. When Nur al-Din’s army would not leave, he sought help from Christians, caring nothing for his own face or faith.
Your father agreed for the sake of those two million gold coins. That was in 63.”
“He did not fulfill the promise.”
“Who would have thought the Fatimid Dynasty’s Grand Vizier would be a promise-breaker like the Isaacites? The victor that time was your father,
But that general of Nur al-Din—a Kurd—incited the Egyptians to breach the Nile River dam. The flood separated us from Nur al-Din’s army.
And it was almost winter then, with insufficient provisions, so the King had to withdraw. Shawwar used this as an excuse to refuse the two million gold coins.”
Heraclius thought and added: “It should be said they even defaulted on the tribute that the Fatimid Dynasty was to pay annually to Ayyarasa Road as per the agreement signed with Grand Vizier Luzk during Caliph al-Hafiz’s time.”
“Is the current Grand Vizier still Shawwar?”
“Still him. Although from a Christian standpoint, he is a lying, vile, sordid little man, on the other hand, he has given us quite a bit of help.
He managed to stir up Nur al-Din of the Seljuk Zengids’ suspicion of those two Kurds. What the army could not accomplish, a few letters did.
Nur al-Din recalled those two generals. They are probably in Damascus now.”
“Besides those two,” Baldwin asked keenly, “does the Fatimid Dynasty have any capable generals?”
“What do you think?”
“How could he do that?” Baldwin found it hard to believe. “Even the stingiest hunter knows to feed his dogs.”
“That is the diversity of people. Children, if this battle achieves your father’s,” he looked at Baldwin, “your King’s,” he looked at Caesar, “expected results.
It is very likely that he will knight you on the battlefield, granting you sword belts and golden spurs. This is an honor no one can question, but becoming knights means you will take on all the duties of an adult in society.
You will interact with more people, and they will be more complex. You must know how to judge a person’s character. A person being stupid is nothing; a person being bad is nothing. You can even exploit their stupidity and badness.
But a person who is both stupid and bad, as you said, like a rotten peach that quickly rots all the surrounding peaches—for such a guy who harms not only himself but others, what you must do is kill them at the first opportunity.
Of course, for us, from the enemy’s standpoint, the more such people the better.”
“What do they want from my father?”
“I think he might promise more gold, hoping your father withdraws the troops.”
“Withdraw? My father has already thrown in money here worth almost an entire Ayyarasa Road. They defaulted on even two million gold coins—how could they afford such huge compensation, or are they willing to mortgage Fustat?”
Baldwin’s words made Heraclius smile faintly. “After all, he succeeded before.” He mocked mercilessly.
Back then, Amaury I had sent troops for Shawwar’s promised two million gold coins, only to waste effort, manpower, and resources, gaining nothing but mockery and distrust.
So this time, even if Shawwar talks flowery words, do not expect Amaury I to change his mind.
After the lesson ended and they were about to serve the King, Caesar hurriedly mentioned Longinus to his teacher. “I do not necessarily want him to sense a saint, but with the great war imminent,” as long as in the army there would be combat: “If he can receive a blessing, his chance of survival will be greater. This is a bit of my selfishness.”
Heraclius did not object to Caesar’s request. Besides, Caesar had few cards in hand, and Longinus was one.
Heraclius always acted swiftly. The next day, Longinus was dragged by several monks for bathing, fasting, prayer, and then thrown into the Church of St. John the Baptist late on the fifth night.
Like the monastery of St. John the Baptist where Caesar had stayed, this place also honored John the Baptist. It was said he had baptized Jesus Christ and many others in the Jordan River, thus holding an extremely special status among the saints.
But Longinus was really not too impressed with this building…
Because the foundation of this building was the Philistine temple of Dagon. When the Byzantines occupied it, they built a church on top. When the Saracens captured Ghazalafa, they built a temple on the church ruins…
When the Crusaders took it, the temple became a church again.
It was practically a matryoshka.
And what made Longinus uncomfortable was that the accompanying priest proudly told him that the story in the Old Testament of Samson pulling down the temple pillars to perish with the enemy was said to have happened in the Dagon temple, right under their feet.
He meant this was also a holy site, but Longinus unpleasantly recalled that his young master had also been nicknamed “Little Samson” by the monks because of his great strength.
