kingdom of nations

Chapter 108 Bethlehem (3)

When César served as a retainer to Amalric I, the king was preoccupied with his upcoming expedition and did not establish a royal court, nor was there any need for one. The territory of Arrasa was not large, and the king did not need to consolidate his power or gain popular support during his tours. During Amalric I's lifetime, there were many who opposed him, but very few who had the courage to launch a rebellion.

He had only ever seen how inspectors punished scoundrels who stole, evaded taxes, or sold inferior goods at the market. That could hardly be called a trial. The inspector would at most glance at them to know who the plaintiff and defendant were, and who the guilty party was. Then all he had to do was impose the punishment.

The courthouse in Bethlehem was also located in the square, which was called Manger Square, right in front of the Church of the Nativity.

In the center of the square, a high platform was erected, upon which a long table and three chairs with backs were placed. The chair in the middle belonged to César, who did not yield in this regard. This was the best opportunity for the people of Bethlehem to get to know him. If he showed cowardice at this moment, or if he was mistaken for a cowardly gentleness, they would still regard Bishop Andrew as the ruler of Bethlehem.

Sure enough, people saw an exceptionally handsome young man sitting in the bishop's seat and began to whisper among themselves. However, when Longinus led his guards over, they removed their hats and bowed their heads in respect. The bishop sat to Cesare's right, while to his left sat a merchant named Jacques, who was known in Bethlehem for his wealth, generosity, and justice. The bishop told Cesare that he could be regarded as a representative of the people.

Jacques bowed to them upon seeing them and sat down only after the two men had done so. César was not entirely unfamiliar with him, after all, he had delivered a whole box of gold coins, a fine horse, and three silk robes the night before.

The first things presented to them were minor disputes. People in this era lacked logic in their speech and actions—this is typical of those who haven't received a systematic education. There was also little evidence; most of it was based on hearsay. One person even claimed that his constant hiccups were because his neighbor had cursed him…

The bishop and Jacques looked very relaxed, as if they were watching a farce or a few jokes. If they got impatient, the bishop would exchange a glance with César (Jacques did not express any opinion), then raise a finger and order the guards to drag them away and beat them a few times.

Then finally, the first murderer who should be taken seriously was pulled up: a dog.

It was a large dog, and Cesar couldn't tell its breed. People at that time didn't have the concept of breeding, but it was clear that it was very fierce and aggressive. Even though its fur was covered in bloodstains and one of its legs was broken, it was still growling incessantly.

Its owner, the plaintiff, recounted the story with anger and sorrow—he had bought the dog from a traveling merchant and raised it from a puppy to its current size, consuming enough food to feed three people. Although it had never failed its owner's care, it had always looked after his cattle, sheep, and house without ever making a mistake.

Just two days ago, it suddenly went berserk in the house, tearing its child out of the cradle and eating it.

He believed that either the dog was inherently cruel and ungrateful, or it was possessed by a demon. He could easily kill it, but he didn't want it to be free so easily. He begged the adults to give it the punishment it deserved and to send it to hell, where it would not be spared even on the last day of the world.

Ladies and gentlemen, if we were to hear someone say this now, we would think he's insane. But at this moment, his request is perfectly reasonable. He has paid the appeal fee, and the bishop doesn't mind sending a dog to hell.

Cesar offered his condolences to the unfortunate man with gentle words. The case was certainly not difficult to judge, but he hesitated slightly when signing the verdict. He had seen the dog's eyes; they were not drooling, nor were they red. It did not seem to be afraid of the wind and water and did not appear to be a mad dog.

However, some large dogs can become suddenly aggressive without warning if they perceive a "child," especially an infant in swaddling clothes, as inferior to them or if the child has been provoked. Nevertheless, he casually asked, "Did anyone see this dog bite the child? You, or the wet nurse?"

His question made the bishop pause, while the plaintiff looked even more bewildered: "What? Your Honor?" He recalled, his face contorted with pain, "No, I didn't see it. I heard the baby's wet nurse screaming. We ran over and saw bloodstains around the cradle. We followed the fallen items and the blood, and found the dog and my child..."

Cesar lowered his head slightly, looking at the man whose face still bore traces of tears. "You saw it tearing the child apart with your own eyes?"

The man seemed to want to answer, "Yes," but then hesitated, "I'm not quite sure..."

César imagined the scene: the dog went berserk, the wet nurse screamed, and then the swaddled baby was carried far away...

How far is the place where you found the dog and the child from the cradle?

“It’s several hundred feet long,” the man said.

“I’m not trying to pardon a murderer or let a devil escape, but I think if your child hasn’t been buried yet, go and measure his wounds with a ruler, look at the distance between his two teeth—I know this is a sad thing, but—if you want, measure the size of your child’s wounds and then compare it to a dog’s.”

The life of a dog is of no importance, but the culprit is probably not the dog, or something else entirely.

"Sir, what do you mean?" the man asked hesitantly.

“I can’t be sure what happened, after all, my saint can’t see into the past—did it go berserk before, and bite you or anyone else?”

“No,” the man said. “Children have played with it before, and even when they hurt it, it never showed its teeth.”

“Then let’s go and see,” César said. “Whatever we’re going to do, there’s no rush.”

The man hesitated for a moment, looked at the bishop, who nodded, and then he bowed to Cesar and hurriedly left with the others. It seemed he intended to do as Cesar said.

The case was temporarily put on hold, and several more men dressed as farmers came forward, knelt on the ground, and made their requests.

They accused a swarm of insects, yes, insects, "They ate our olives!"

The farmers said they even brought some insects in a straw cage as a representation of the defendants. “Every year,” they said angrily, “these wretched little servants of the devil fly in every time the olives ripen, lay their eggs on the fruit, and their maggots suck the juice out of the fruit, either causing it to fall off or drying out so that no good oil can be extracted.”

“They’re unusually dense today, five eggs on every ten olives,” the farmer said desperately. “More than every year before, sir. If we don’t drive them away, we can’t harvest olives, press oil, exchange it for wheat, pay our taxes, and many people will starve.” This was far more serious than previous cases. Cesar looked at the bishop, who simply shook his head. “In recent years, the devil has indeed sent more servants than before. We’ve held Masses, carried icons in processions, and sprinkled holy water on the olive trees—but I think this is probably because one of them has committed an unforgivable crime.”

He turned to the farmer with a stern expression—he said he would send priests to investigate the matter, and if it was determined to be a human sin, then as God's representatives on earth, they would punish the sinner with extremely cruel methods, such as burning at the stake or boiling at the water.

But if the sinner is not found, then it can only be said that this is God's punishment, and all the villagers must serve for it, pay fines, and repent.

If that's the case and the disaster still hasn't been alleviated, then it must be the devil at work. He will issue a notice and document to expel these insects from the church and send them to hell—Cesar looked at the bishop and realized that he was indeed serious... not joking or teasing.

Afterwards, the bishop had the farmers bring up the captured insects and personally carried out the cruel punishment of "crushing" them. These insects, which must have been some kind of fly, were crushed and crackled. Cesar didn't know what expression to make—but he still solemnly raised his hands and applauded to show his admiration and emotion for the bishop...

But that definitely won't work.

Cesar was prepared to talk to the bishop that evening, since the olive industry in Bethlehem was also part of his income, and he didn't need to worry about being accused of overstepping his bounds by getting involved.

The bishop wiped his hands, changed his shoes, and returned to his seat. The plaintiff in the case withdrew gratefully. Originally, the case of the man and woman was next, but a commotion came from not far away. They looked up and saw that it was none other than the dog's owner and the plaintiff.

Upon seeing César, he immediately knelt down below the platform, weeping, and said that, as César had instructed, they had indeed discovered clues behind this tragedy.

They examined the wounds on the child's body. The two deepest bites were not in the same position as the dog's canine teeth. They then interrogated the wet nurse severely and learned that she had neglected her duty. She had taken a nap by the cradle and only realized that the baby had been dragged away by a wild beast when she heard the baby crying.

Before she could scream, the dog had already run off. When people arrived and saw the dead baby and the dog, they assumed the dog had attacked the baby. To cover up her mistake, she went along with it and said the dog had bitten the child.

People chased after it for a while and sure enough, they saw an old wolf lying dead by the roadside.

As she was dragged in a disheveled state to the platform, she continued to argue vehemently, refusing to feel she should bear any responsibility for the incident. She claimed it was God's will, the devil's trickery, that this child was suffering... Of course, her words inevitably earned her a few more punches...

The bishop was also furious, mainly because this foolish woman had actually compared God to the devil. He gave her a severe punishment: imprisonment, hard labor, and compensation for her employer's losses.

The lucky dog ​​was taken home by its owner.

"But how did you guess that the dog was there to protect the child, and not to harm him?" the bishop asked.

“I have heard of a similar story—a loyal dog saw its young master being attacked by a wolf, so it bravely pounced on him, fought the beast, and brought the young master’s body back to his home. But people only saw its bloodied teeth and body, and thought it had regained its wild nature and eaten its young master, so they killed it. But it was just fulfilling its duty.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen anything like this,” the bishop said. “It’s as if I’ve seen King Solomon.” He memorized the story and planned to copy it into his diary when he got back.

This case is certainly something to talk about, and it makes people even more interested in the subsequent verdict.

The third case was not very complicated; in today's terms, it was a divorce case.

Before the trial began, someone had dug a hole in the square. Now the guards went over and lifted the wooden planks, revealing a hole about half a person's height and a person's width in diameter. At this point, the plaintiff and the defendant stepped forward. They were originally husband and wife, but they wanted to divorce because of irreconcilable conflicts. If one of them were a king, or if they could afford to ask the pope to issue a certificate to declare the marriage invalid, this matter would not be a big deal.

But if they are just an ordinary couple... and still want to get a divorce, then the only option is to "divorce by duel".

A "duel divorce" means that the couple fights—a fight to the death.

“The husband clearly has the upper hand in this duel,” the bishop whispered in Cesar’s ear.

At this moment, the sturdy husband had one hand tied and was lowered into the pit. In his free hand, he held a thick wooden stick.

The wife was indeed much slimmer than her husband. She stood outside the pit, holding a cloth bag with a stone inside. She could use the stone to hit her husband, and if she could knock him unconscious and drag him out of the pit, she would win.

Conversely, if the husband knocks down his wife and drags her into the pit, then the husband wins.

"What would happen if we won?" Cesar asked.

“If the wife wins, the husband is beheaded; if the husband wins, the wife is burned at the stake,” the bishop said.

Before the duel began, his wife suddenly raised her head and looked at the platform. Cesar almost cried out in surprise. He didn't recognize her at first, but when he saw the eyes hidden under her disheveled hair, he remembered her. Wasn't this the woman who had been sent by Heraclius and Amalric I to ask for help when he was doing penance in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre a few years ago?

(End of this chapter)