Chapter 84: Assault On The City!
Compared to Heraclius’s frustration, Amalric I was completely unconcerned and even pleased to see it; he comforted Heraclius, saying, “Think about what we were like at their age.”
“I was never like that!” Heraclius said firmly.
“You just weren’t as obvious about it. Every time we called you, didn’t you eagerly grab your hammer, mount your horse, and go with us?” Amalric I exposed him without any mercy.
Heraclius coughed twice. “That was also to protect those poor pilgrims… What they are doing is still too risky.”
“If not now, then when?” Amalric I replied. “Baldwin, and Caesar’s situation is even worse than ours was back then.”
Amalric I was not the Queen’s eldest son; his brother was Baldwin III, also a wise and strong king. No one expected him to die so young and without heirs—and at that time, just as Count Etienne and all second sons and youngest sons felt, all the glory was focused on the primary heir.
Whether it was the father’s favor, the mother’s love, or the subjects’ support and attention.
Although Raymond and Bohemond were Amalric I’s “bloodless brothers,” chosen together by saints under God’s gaze—but at that time, no, until Baldwin III’s death, they would rather serve as attendants by the former’s side than accompany Amalric I.
Amalric I was not annoyed by this, otherwise he would not continue to employ them heavily. What else could he do? He would have a title, a territory, but more things would require him to gain them one sword stroke at a time through courage and luck.
He could not do anything for Raymond or Bohemond, could not send troops to drive away Raymond’s illegitimate son uncle（this brother has been fighting Raymond over Tripoli）, nor could he help the now-adult Bohemond expel his stepfather and mother to reclaim Antioch……
But recalling himself back then, Amalric I did feel a trace of irrepressible melancholy.
“You know Baldwin,” Amalric I said. “He can become very stubborn at times.”
Ever since Baldwin received God’s blessing and displayed the rich favor he gained from the saints, more people wanted to return to or come to his side, with David at the forefront, followed by Abigail—he had previously been forcibly sent back to Antioch by Bohemond, but now he had returned.
And other young people from surrounding lords and Knights—Amalric I had also advised Baldwin not to hold it too much against them; a monarch should be magnanimous, but Baldwin said he would not hate them, but it was also hard for him to continue liking them.
“Caesar once told me that precious emotions are like a flawless jade plate; once shattered, even the best goldsmith cannot repair those fine cracks. My feelings toward them are the same.”
He in turn advised Amalric I: “Rather than letting them stay by my side and reminding me of the past from time to time, it is better for us to stay apart, and in the future, we may still be able to get along harmoniously as monarch and subject.”
Amalric I was also helpless about this; what he worried about was if Baldwin only had Caesar by his side…
He hoped Baldwin would have more people around him; now he was not so concerned about Caesar’s origins—he could hardly say the word “slave.” How could a child like Caesar possibly be a slave?
No one would believe it.
Fortunately, since joining the expedition’s ranks, with more and more lords and lords coming to participate in this holy war, the number of young people was also steadily increasing; among them there were certainly ruffians and scoundrels, but most were still brave and pure good lads.
They had no ill feelings toward Baldwin either; even in their hometowns, lepers were seen as receiving God’s punishment or the devil’s curse, but Baldwin showed none of the terrible pathology they had seen or imagined before.
His eyes were still bright, his skin still smooth, his mind still clear and even sharper and wiser than most; his left hand might be a bit inflexible, but who else could receive as much favor from Saint George as he?
The thing these young men liked most was to gather around Baldwin and call him to summon Saint George’s spear; although they could not touch the spear, just looking at it made them feel as if they had received infinite blessings and favors, full of energy and immense strength, ready to charge into the Saracen army without issue!
At first, Amalric I had worried whether Caesar would, wanting to continue monopolizing Baldwin’s friendship, take the opportunity to sow discord and spread rumors—just like Witt had done before, telling these people to stay away from Baldwin.
He was mistaken.
Caesar was not a real child; the soul within the body was already grown. When he looked at Baldwin, it was like looking at the unfortunate young patients he had seen in hospital wards before.
Now Baldwin’s condition was stable, and under this “blessing” he still could not fully understand, he possessed strength ordinary people lacked; now with many enthusiastic young friends added, he was delighted.
However, among these people, many had come for Caesar; unlike those lords and lords who sighed upon hearing of Caesar’s origins.
They simply did not believe Caesar could be the son of a farmer or craftsman—that was absolutely impossible! Moreover, he was now an intimate attendant by Baldwin’s side; once Baldwin ascended, what title or territory would he lack?
They even thought, like Baldwin, of their own widowed sisters or aunts by their sides; it did not matter if Baldwin was unwilling to let him go—the women could bring their dowries and marry to Ayyarasa Road, just like Baldwin I’s third wife, who was the widow of a Sicily lord; after marrying to Ayyarasa Road, did she not let Baldwin I use her dowry to build several castles?
“Just with that face,” one knight said to another, “my aunt would willingly travel a thousand miles.”
“Your aunt has no territory or inheritance rights,” said the knight with golden-red long hair. “I do not think Baldwin would be willing to entrust Caesar’s marriage to such a woman.”
“Do you have a good candidate?” the knight asked bluntly.
“I do have one; she is a bit older, but she is indeed very wealthy, with a fairly vast territory.” The golden-red-haired knight said. “Just one big flaw.”
“What flaw?”
“Her husband is still alive.”
The knight who started the conversation burst out laughing upon hearing this, clearly thinking it was just a joke. “Oh,” said the golden-red-haired knight, “they are back.”
Arthur, Blondel…” Baldwin entered the tent; the two knights bowed to him together, and Caesar slightly moved aside to avoid misunderstanding.
These two young knights—one was Arthur from Aquitaine, the other Blondel from Nele—were both of noble birth. Arthur’s father had once served Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine; he was able to come to Ayyarasa Road for the holy war this time thanks to a letter of introduction from the Knight Marshal.
Arthur was seventeen this year, but according to him, due to some necessary matters, he had already received golden spurs and a sword belt, becoming a knight, and had participated in several wars before. “But if possible, I would rather call this war my first battle!” he said, his eyes sharp and voice resounding.
“It will be a very difficult battle, with not many spoils of war.” Baldwin said mildly.
“I only wish to kill the most Saracens!” Arthur shouted. Blondel could not help rolling his eyes. Nele was in eastern France, Aquitaine in southwestern France, but he had not heard much of an Arthur from Aquitaine; yet when he asked about Aquitaine, the other answered fluently and was also well-informed about the court and Imperial Court under Louis VII.
He turned to fetch a cup and pour water for Baldwin, only to find that Caesar by Baldwin’s side had already filled the silver cup with sweet but slightly warm water; he first gave it to Baldwin, then to Arthur, then to Blondel, and took one himself, sipping it slowly.
“I like ice water.” Arthur said. “No ice cubes, and not so hot.”
“Overly cold water will make your insides explode.” Baldwin said.
“What kind of devilish theory is that, Saracen?” Arthur complained a few words but drank no slower than anyone, downing it in the blink of an eye as if the silver cup had never held water; he went to pour it himself, and this rude discourtesy made Blondel sigh deeply.
Baldwin and Caesar did not mind; Arthur was probably the best-mingling among these young knights and novice knights with them—he was straightforward, exceptionally brave, and sufficiently generous.
In the several martial arts tournaments Amalric I had held earlier to wear out the knights’ energy, he had taken first place each time, but he took neither the losers’ horses nor armor, nor ransom, as if he had entered only to fight.
Moreover, compared to the other knights still hesitating whether to approach Caesar, he was the first to link arms with Caesar and sit with him to drink and eat.
He even exchanged robes with Caesar, except Caesar had no coat of arms yet—Amalric I was probably waiting for Baldwin to give him one—but Arthur’s robe prominently featured a gleaming fleur-de-lis.
“I heard the Marshal talk about you,” at their first meeting, he curiously stared at Baldwin and Caesar. “Especially you; I heard you once walked alone into the Templar Knights’ Tortosa Castle, just to beg the brutal Walter not to let countless commoners die because of the conflict between him and Amalric I.”
“But that sounds like something a monk would do.” He asked Caesar: “Why do you not participate in sparring?”
“I am not enthusiastic about or skilled in combat,” Caesar said. “Moreover, I am still a novice knight; if I participate as an escort, I, having received God’s blessing, would not be fair to ordinary people.”
“Escorts can have blessings too.” Arthur said. “And what do you mean not skilled? I heard you killed over a hundred with Baldwin on the Tortosa battlefield, and withstood a childless she-bear’s bites in front of everyone; though I did not see you disguised as a noble lady exterminating that group of Saracens, I had seen you charging by Baldwin’s side before, striking down any enemy daring to approach.”
“Do not mention the noble lady thing; that was a last resort.” Caesar said. “Just like the other things you heard, merely fulfilling the duties and responsibilities of a friend and subject.”
Hearing this, Arthur looked up at Baldwin: “You two really are like in the legends, having sworn an oath to be brothers?”
“What is wrong with that?” Baldwin asked.
“Nothing, just as a future monarch,” Arthur said. “Some might think you are not cautious enough.”
But that was probably several months ago; now Arthur, like the others, not only did not think Caesar unqualified to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Baldwin, but even felt that if Amalric I had not ransomed Caesar from the Isaacites, Caesar might have had better choices.
“Come, Arthur,” Baldwin called. “Come see the situation we scouted today.”
Arthur and Blondel were also “chosen ones”; Arthur’s patron saint was Saint Paul, like Walter—Saint Paul did not seem a serene-tempered saint.
Arthur was as warlike as Walter, even somewhat ferocious; he was even a bit taller than Baldwin and Caesar—six feet five inches, but with much broader shoulders and a heavier build. One could say, if Baldwin and Caesar were that lean tall type（even frail would not be wrong）, he was a tiger-backed bear-waisted giant, and he might become even stronger in the future.
Blondel’s patron was Saint Martin, this saint famed for enduring long suffering in prison; the favor Blondel received was also related to protection and alleviating pain.
It was hard to say if Baldwin choosing them as his right-hand men was related to this—he knew some compared him and Caesar to “God’s spear and shield”; though he felt Caesar’s strength should not be limited to that, for now, at least when he could not fully protect him yet, the metaphor was not bad.
It was just that when choosing knights, after selecting Arthur, he subconsciously picked another “shield,” even though he knew Caesar would not leave him to protect others… but…
“Who drew the map?” Arthur’s question startled Baldwin. “Caesar drew it,” he said.
The bridges connecting Laudae Island and Cairo—not counting the aerial drawbridges—totaled two: one was a wooden bridge（evidently the king’s intelligence had a slight error）, erected at the central position of Laudae Island, leading straight to Cairo’s King’s Gate; they were unlikely to choose this one. The other was at the southernmost end of Laudae Island, some distance from the city gate but not far—at least cavalry could reach it in one charge.
“They will first attack King’s Gate, preventing the Saracens inside from rushing out to support.”
“But if they spot us, they can still hurry over via the drawbridges between the city walls and fortress to reinforce.” Arthur approvingly measured on the parchment; this map was not as ornate and exquisite as those he had seen before, but exceptionally clear—plan, side view, and rough structure, with detailed dimensions marked.
“Where did you get these dimensions from?”
“Caesar dove underwater to measure them.”
Arthur involuntarily glanced at the black-haired youth; sure enough, his hair was still a bit damp. “You?”
Knights learned swimming, but swimming was not diving; without diving, the Saracens guarding the bridges would spot the intruding enemy immediately.
But what Arthur envied most was Caesar’s map-drawing skill; as a knight and future general, no one knew better than him the crucial role a detailed diagram could play in a campaign.
Even if he had never seen such a “map” before, it was like placing the scene vividly before him; just looking at it, he could think of how to fight, with how many, from what direction, using what—catapults, bow and crossbow, or Greek fire… Caesar had even marked the material of the bridgehead arrow towers.
“One more thing,” Caesar reminded. “Tomorrow we must watch upstream; they might release boats chained by iron chains, attacking people on the bridge from the boats.”
“You saw that too?” Arthur asked.
“I could not swim that far, but I saw arrowheads and flame scorch marks left on the bridge.”
Arthur’s gaze involuntarily shifted to Baldwin.
“I have a rather suitable marriage alliance candidate… Your Highness, beautiful, wealthy, with a large territory… the only flaw… will soon be gone…”
