kingdom of nations

Chapter 112 Bethlehem (7)

"But the ministers in the court, as well as the Grand Master of the Knights Templar and the Grand Master of the Good Hall Knights, will surely stop him."

“Of course they’ll try to stop it when they see no hope. But what if they do see hope?” Le Guay said. “The information we’ve received is absolutely true. Nur ad-Din’s condition has been fluctuating, his three sons are all preoccupied with their own agendas, not to mention his ‘emirs’ (military commanders).” Le Guay sighed deeply.

"You know about the conflict between Nur ad-Din and Shirkuh of Egypt, and his nephew Saladin, right?"

If Nur ad-Din were healthy and strong, he certainly wouldn't have targeted Shirku and Saladin at this time. After all, he had just fought Arslan of Marash, and his soldiers hadn't yet recovered from the fatigue and excitement of the war. But he had no choice but to do so, since his emirs were also watching him.

If Shirku and Saladin are not punished, they will suspect that the lion is old, his teeth are loose, and his claws are missing, and he will be attacked by the pack.

"Doesn't he have a son?"

"The worst part is that he has three sons, as well as his elder brother and his brother's children. They all have their eyes on Nurdin's throne and territory, just waiting for him to show signs of weakness. That's why he has to put on such a stern face when dealing with those two Kurds. If possible, he might even use them as an example to deter those restless guys. Do you know what they've been up to lately?"

Merchants from Damascus reported that Nur ad-Din had summoned Shirkul and Saladin back to Damascus or Apol in the name of launching a holy war. However, although the two Kurds verbally acknowledged the Sultan's decree and appeared to be in a state of fear and trepidation, they never actually set out.

Their family moved the Fatimid capital from the burned-out city of Fustat to Cairo, and it is said they are gathering craftsmen to rebuild the walls, palaces, and fortresses of Cairo. Now, Shirku is the Grand Vizier of the Fatimid dynasty, and his nephew Saladin holds considerable military power; it seems they will not return to Syria.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t go back either,” Lego said. “No matter what, they are slaves of Sultan Nur ad-Din, his Emirs. It’s fine when they don’t meet, but once they do, if they still dare to disobey the Sultan, Nur ad-Din has the right to take out his longbow and strangle them.”

"But now that we've come this far, do you think Nur ad-Din is preparing to launch a holy war, or is he just looking for an excuse?"

"Hard to say."

No matter how much God and saints blessed Baldwin IV, he was still only fourteen years old, so young and lacking in foundation—Jacques meant that this heir to the kingdom, who had to live alone because of leprosy, did not have many trustworthy friends and subordinates around him.

His two ministers, Count Raymond of Tripoli and Grand Duke Bohemond of Antioch, were his rightful elders. If he displayed the kind of natural awe and obedience that ordinary children have for their elders, he would be nothing more than a puppet.

Thinking of this, Jacques couldn't help but show a hint of worry. Judging from the Knights of Bethlehem, their new king might not be a weak and useless man. But being involved in such a dangerous political struggle, they also worried that they might be swallowed up by the sudden whirlpool.

“What we did did not hinder the interests of those adults, nor did we explicitly encourage the new king to do anything. But if our intelligence can help him regain his power sooner—I dare not say how much benefit we can get, but at least in the business world, we should be able to obtain great convenience and privileges.”

What Lego didn't say was that he wanted to take this opportunity to fight for a greater voice for the Isaacs before the new king. Every generation of Isaacs had done this, some succeeded, some didn't, but even those who succeeded could only achieve so little—the Isaacs were still mostly excluded from the guilds and prohibited from owning land or becoming officials.

They were still limited to professions such as merchants, moneylenders, or currency exchangers, which were not popular.

He did have a friend who used to be a skilled goldsmith, but because the guild rejected him, he had to move to Bielebas. "Oh, right," Lego suddenly said, "I used to have a friend who lived in Bielebas. When the city fell, he escaped. Now he's going somewhere else, but his daughter is sick. I've put him in an inn for a few days until the girl recovers, and then we'll talk about what to do next."

If possible, I will arrange for him to meet you. He is a wise and kind elder, and I think you can learn something from him that you cannot learn from me.”

Jacques, of course, would not refuse. He knew that his father-in-law regarded him as another son, and every suggestion he made was for his own good. There must be a reason, though he could not know it, that he was important enough to ask him to meet such a person.

Lego nodded in satisfaction.

He was equally pleased with his son-in-law, except that he was not an Isaac.

However, if he were an Isaac, he wouldn't make him his son-in-law and heir, since an Isaac wouldn't be enough to get to the Christians.

After Lego left, Jacques sat alone at the table for a while, repeatedly thinking about the events of the past few days, as well as his plans and arrangements for the future. Since they had decided to actively participate in the war between the Saracens and the Christians, they had to be very careful, leave no trace, and make sure the new king saw their achievements.

He kept pondering until only a few candle waxes remained before he stood up and returned to his room. His wife saw him and immediately stood up.

"What are you doing?"

Jacques asked curiously, because he saw his wife open a trunk and take out several pieces of clothing and place them on a stool next to her.

“She’s one of my aunts,” Jacques’ wife said, frowning. “She came to visit me suddenly today and told me about her troubles and hardships. I’m planning to give her some clothes and maybe some money.”

“Your aunt,” Jacques thought for a moment, recalling someone from his memory, “the one who lives on Arrassa Road?”

“Yes, she married a Christian knight. But I heard the marriage wasn’t approved by the church; after all, her husband is a Crusader knight,” Jacques’ wife said with a worried expression, unsure what to say about her poor aunt. The Isaacs had always been quite cautious about intermarriage with other peoples, after all, in the scriptures they held as gospel, the saint Abraham had said, “Do not marry a Canaanite woman.”

At that time, God commanded Abraham to sacrifice his only son Isaac, and Abraham obeyed the command. But at the last moment, God sent God to replace Isaac with a pure lamb. When Isaac grew up and was ready to marry and have children, Abraham summoned his steward and told him to go to Abraham's homeland, Mesopotamia, to find a pure-blooded Hebrew woman, instead of having Isaac marry a local Canaanite woman.

Therefore, the prohibition against intermarriage with people of other races became a tenet of the Isaacs.

Of course, all doctrines can be broken, especially in the Arazari Road and the surrounding countries, which are originally a multi-ethnic region, and the number of Isaacs here is not enough for them to uphold this law—they either have to leave the Arazari Road or marry people of different faiths.

However, in marriage, it was still more common for Isaac women to marry outside the family than for Isaac men to marry Christian or Saracen women. Jacques was able to marry Leghorn's daughter, and within the Isaac community, he was implicitly considered to be a future convert—it was just for the convenience of doing business with Christians at the moment. The Isaacs were sometimes very flexible.

Jacques' wife's aunt was a different case. She had always been a stubborn person, and no one thought the marriage would succeed.

Jacques was originally just the son of a craftsman, and later a merchant. No one would have cared much if he married an Isaac woman or a Saracen woman. But a Crusader knight marrying an Isaac woman, especially twenty years ago, was hard to accept.

At least the priests and knights of the Order of Knights firmly believed that the marriage was invalid; they were merely cohabiting, and their child was an illegitimate child. And as expected, the knight died on the battlefield within two years, and his wife not only failed to inherit his estate but was also expelled from the castle along with her child.

If it weren't for the knight having a brother who was the castle steward, the mother and son would have had an even harder time.

"Isn't her son named Witt...? Didn't he already work as a servant in the castle?"

Upon hearing Jacques's question, his wife gave an awkward smile. "Something happened," she said vaguely. "Unfortunately, he died."

Jacques didn't mind. It wasn't unusual for a widow who had lost her child to seek refuge with a wealthy relative. He even went over, picked up the money bag, poured out the money, and counted it. "Is this enough? Should we add some more?"

“That’s enough,” said Jacques’ wife. “She’s just staying here for a few months at most. I heard she wants to go back to the Apennines next year, where she has other relatives to rely on.”

“Indeed,” Jacques said sincerely, “it is ultimately too dangerous for a lone woman to stay on Arrassa Road.”

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The next morning, Jacques' wife went to see her aunt. To be honest, she didn't like her very much because the latter was always quite arrogant—though it wasn't entirely incomprehensible. Although she was an Isaac, she had been beautiful in her youth, like morning dew and roses, and it was for this reason that the knight fell in love with her so desperately.

She once said that rather than being married off to an Isaac man by her father, bearing an Isaac man's child, and continuing to suffer contempt and torment, she would rather stay at home forever. And it would be even better if she could marry a Christian knight. When she insisted on marrying him despite her mother's weeping and her father's curses, not only did the church not recognize their marriage, but to the Isaac man, she was as good as dead.

In Jacques' wife's hazy memory, this aunt had also returned, standing far away outside the Isaac settlement. As soon as her grandfather saw her, he immediately closed the doors and windows. Even when her father stammered that he wanted to go out and take a look, he was ruthlessly refused. But to say that the relationship was truly severed was not necessarily true. At least after the knight died, her grandfather had tried to bring her back.

But her aunt refused. Jacques' wife didn't know what she was thinking, but she kept some things from her husband—she knew that her aunt's son, Witte, had once been a servant to a prince and had unexpectedly received a blessing from God—all of which her father, Le Guaux, had found out. Later, Witte became a monk, and then, for some unknown reason, he died.

Le Gucht blurted it out while drunk, and afterwards he forced those who heard it—his wife and daughter—to never tell anyone. It seems to involve some important figure…

“Madam?” she asked in a low voice.

In the cramped hotel room, Witt's mother was still dressed in coarse black linen, wearing a hood and a face mask. When she turned her head, her eyes looked like two bright spots that gleamed in the darkness, like those of some kind of animal.

Jacques' wife was startled. She pressed her chest and went into the room without a servant—after all, she was a "dead" person, and if the "wise man" of Isaac saw her, she would be punished.

She brought her aunt clothes, food, and money, and with her husband's permission, she added a little more—enough for her aunt to board the ship back to the Apennines, or even find a monastery or cottage to stay in temporarily. But her aunt just glanced at it and then put it down out of boredom.

“I also brought you a talisman,” Jacques’ wife said.

This pure silver amulet—when her aunt left the Isaac community, she took nothing with her except a thin set of clothes. Their "wise men" would not allow her to continue to defile the Isaac people's sacred objects. Jacques' wife was worried that she would be furious or dismissive, but she took it, looked at it carefully, and then hung it around her neck with great care.

Jacques' wife felt relieved. "I'm leaving," she said. "The ship has been arranged. Write to me when you get on board and reach the Apennines."

Her aunt simply pulled down her veil and gave a strange smile: "Then, come and kiss me, my dear little niece."

(End of this chapter)