kingdom of nations

Chapter 116 The Lady of Love and Beauty (Bonus Chapter!)

“They really do treat me like a child,” Baldwin said in a low voice, his tone less indignant and more tinged with helplessness.

Over the past few months, he has come to understand that even if he turns sixteen in a few more months, according to Amalric I's will, from that day onward, he will be entitled to all the rights and status of a monarch.

In reality, even Amalric I himself failed to win everyone's hearts—at least the Grand Master and members of the Knights Templar frequently disagreed with him. They were still disagreeing now, but this time it was directed at Raymond and Bohemond—which, for Baldwin, wasn't a good thing either, meaning the Knights Templar didn't even take the young monarch seriously.

Even today, they are still discussing how to conquer Mulei. Even though Baldwin and Cesar have presented evidence that Nur ad-Din may start a war at any time, they remain unmoved. Or rather, maintaining the safety of the pilgrimage route is their top priority.

No, more accurately, they may have believed the intelligence brought by the merchants, but their analysis and judgment based on that intelligence differed greatly from those of Baldwin and Cesar—after so many years of fighting the Saracens, they were quite familiar with the Saracen political and military system, if not completely knowledgeable.

In the court of the Seljuks, there was only one master, and everyone else was a slave. Once the master died, chaos and disorder awaited them until a new master appeared. Nur ad-Din had three sons and his nephew. As soon as he died, the Saracens would immediately fall into civil war.

Given this, knowing that he was about to die, Nur ad-Din did not even dare to leave Apol, let alone launch an expedition to Arrasal. Even if he suddenly went mad, how long could he hold on?

Whether it was Nur ad-Din or Amalric I, preparing for an expedition would take at least one or two years, and the siege would last for weeks to months. They had already made an agreement with the Byzantine Emperor Manuel I that when they attacked Murray, the Byzantine fleet would also arrive at Tarsus (a Byzantine city near Murray's territory), forming a pincer movement with the Crusaders.

If so, they could finish the war in three months, ensuring the smooth passage of the pilgrimage route and using it as a base to attack the Seljuk sultans.

Even if the Saracens dared to attack Arazarus, they could return to defend it in time. Arazarus was not a small city with low walls. The Crusaders attacked it fiercely for a month and a half at great cost before finally taking it down. In the decades that followed, successive kings of Arazarus continuously reinforced the walls and added fortifications, making it even more majestic and fortified. In the words of a priest, "It could not be destroyed unless God himself sent down divine punishment."

However, Raymond and the others did not think it was a terrible mistake. After all, the new king was still an impulsive young man. Although he had participated in battles and expeditions, he still did not have enough experience.

However, Raymond sometimes asks himself whether he will willingly relinquish his power in a few years.
Five years, he thought, or even ten, until King Baldwin IV and his children grow up.

Judging from Baldwin's current condition, his health is still acceptable, but it's uncertain when it might suddenly deteriorate. Raymond inquired with some priests, and they learned that lepers can indeed remain healthy for a long time, but perhaps one day, without warning, they will develop festering sores all over their bodies, high fever, and coma, and then they will be unable to hold on and will need to apply ointment and repent. The whole process may only take one or two months, at most half a year...

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but worry. If Baldwin remained immature, too frivolous, or too trusting of the unknown boy beside him, his regency might last for fifteen or twenty years, until Bohemond's son Abigail and the princess's child came of age, at which point he might have a chance to rest.

In other words, his war with Bohemond might go all the way to the graveyard.

Their rivalry began when they became squires of Baldwin III and continued until the reign of Amalric I. Unexpectedly, it continued from Baldwin's generation to his descendants.

He was quite confident in himself. He was experienced, shrewd, and—at least he thought so—that even if he wasn't exactly upright or fair, he was at least conscientious and diligent.

Bohemond? Pshaw!

The loud cheers shattered Raymond's sweet fantasy. He came to his senses and found himself sitting in the towering stands. He remembered that, in order to dispel the young monarch's unease and worries, he and Bohemond had specially organized a small tournament during this time.

Although it was a small event, the preparations for the tournament were meticulous, including the announcement, the construction of stands, walls, and fences, as well as rooms, servants, stables, tents, and camps for the knights from afar. To make the tournament even more spectacular, they also recruited musicians, bards, and beautifully dressed courtesans and dancers.

There were also dozens of dwarfs and clowns in the various castles.

They also implored the former queen, now the Queen Mother, the Byzantine princess, to lend her animal trainers and wild beasts, ensuring a dazzling array of entertainment before the tournament. Furthermore, he and Bohemond each offered a generous reward.

"Is that your son?" Taking advantage of the surging crowd, a minor nobleman nimbly approached and flattered, "What a brave and handsome young man! In my opinion, there is no knight more outstanding than him in the entire castle, no, in the entire Alassane Road, or even in the entire Holy Land."

If he had said something else flattering, Raymond might have smiled and agreed, but when it came to the most handsome and bravest, his smile vanished instantly. "And our king," he said coldly.

The nobleman hesitated for a moment, but he had an unparalleled thick skin and immediately continued, "Except for the king."

Raymond chuckled. "No, not just the king, you should add one more person—the Knight of Bethlehem."

Sure enough, the next moment, cheers erupted, red banners were unfurled in the field, and the herald stood up and loudly proclaimed the name of the Knight of Bethlehem.

“It still sounds a bit strange, Cesar of Bethlehem,” Baldwin muttered.

The Franks of this period did not place much importance on surnames; their names were generally given name plus their fief or birthplace. This is why Cesare was often criticized for not having a surname. But now that he was a Knight of Bethlehem, he could be called Cesare of Bethlehem.

César's opponent was none other than David, and the outcome was self-evident. Even though it had been agreed beforehand that neither participant would use the power bestowed by the saint, César was already able to defeat David in the target-hitting game when he first arrived at the Castle of the Holy Cross—at that time, David had already undergone three years of knightly training, while César had only learned riding and lance for two months.

Even David knew that when facing Cesar, he inevitably felt fear—and a bit of frustration. He believed that he would become a brave and fearless knight in the future, but Cesar had indeed experienced more brutal battles—he unfortunately fell off the ladder on the first day of the siege. Although he was blessed by God and did not suffer a lifelong disability, he was unable to participate in the subsequent battles.

He was sent back to Yarasa Road.

If César was a sword tempered in the fires of war, then David was merely an ornament hanging in the hall. He might achieve even greater feats in the future, but at this moment, he was no match for César.

Cesar knocked David off his horse with a single blow, and the cheers that had been prepared burst forth. Raymond couldn't help but show his displeasure, but he had no choice but to clap his hands perfunctorily.

The poor nobleman who came to flatter him was probably not very familiar with the Knight of Bethlehem, or perhaps he misunderstood him, thinking that he had only risen so high because of his previous relationship with the new king. He stood there frozen, at a loss, and Raymond felt sorry for him. "You may leave," he said, and turned to look at his child.

“It’s alright,” Raymond said to himself. “David, you will be the Count of Tripoli someday.”

Perhaps—or perhaps… a thought involuntarily surfaced in his mind. Hibern and Abigail had been sleeping together for several months, but the princess's belly remained flat. Although he knew that pregnancy wasn't something that happened overnight—a newlywed couple might see their wife's belly swell in a month or two, or they might not see any hope for years, even decades—it was God's will that their marriage wasn't going smoothly.

For example, Eleanor of Aquitaine and King Louis VII of France.

But what if they truly couldn't have children, or could only have daughters? A daughter's inheritance rights would always be subordinate to the male heir. And as Bohemond said, he was Amalric I's cousin, and his son was also a blood relative of Baldwin. A decade or so later, when Baldwin IV was frail and unable to continue his life, Noahbigae and the princess still had no children… Of course, there was also Princess Isabella. But by then, Princess Isabella was barely an adult, while her David was already around thirty, a knight, a nobleman. If he could achieve some merit in those years, such as conquering a city or reclaiming some territory—as his father, Raymond was confident he could gain the support of the Order of the Good Hall and the Knights Templar.

By then, perhaps his struggle with Bohemond will finally come to a true end.

When he looked at David again, the annoyance in his eyes was gone. He even took off his son's helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow, but David was somewhat dejected; he had once again disappointed his father's expectations.

“It’s nothing,” Raymond said. “Everyone has their own strengths, and your strengths may be something they can’t match.”

David couldn't understand his father's words for a moment. Just as he was about to ask more questions, he heard a series of cheerful shouts and cheers, as well as the thumping sound of leather shoes on the wooden floor of the stands. It turned out that the champion of today's tournament, the Knight of Bethlehem, was hanging a wreath on his spear according to tradition.

He wanted to dedicate this wreath to the most beautiful and noble woman here.

Generally speaking, such ceremonial gestures of admiration and gift-giving—unless the knight has sworn an oath to a noblewoman, kneeling at her feet and vowing to defend her dignity—are usually offered to the woman of the highest status present.

The most distinguished woman present here today is Countess Jaffa.

Since the death of Amalric I, she had frequently traveled between Jaffa and Arazari. After losing her father, she naturally hoped to provide her two children with more maternal comfort. However, in her view, the only one who needed her reassurance was Baldwin—Hibil was becoming increasingly paranoid, arrogant, and willful.

The Countess of Jaffa smiled as she watched the child having a servant hang a wreath of forget-me-nots on him. The small purple flowers were interspersed with tiny white roses and tied with a bright red ribbon. She hesitated for a moment, then took off one of her own bracelets, a noblewoman's return gift to the knight.

“I remember the last time I was ‘Lady of Beauty and Love’ was twenty years ago,” she said to her companion with great interest. “Amalric I won the tournament and gave me the wreath. I never imagined that twenty years later I would be ‘Lady of Beauty and Love’ again.”

Her female companion was her longtime friend, who burst into laughter upon hearing this. Just as she was about to say something, her expression suddenly froze.

The Countess of Jaffa immediately turned her head and her face turned cold. She saw her daughter, Princess Hibil.

The Countess of Jaffa was once the mistress of Arrassa Road, but after Amalric I divorced her, she was just an ordinary noblewoman. As Hibil blurted out in anger, her status was now below that of her daughter. In other words, at this moment, Hibil was the most honored woman in the place—a realization that immediately gave her a bad feeling.

"What do you want to do?" she asked in a low voice.

Hibler stood before her, his face stern. "You should bow to me."

The Countess of Jaffa's lips trembled, but she could only kneel and lower her head. Before she could fully stand, she suddenly grabbed Hibil's arm. "Have you spoken to your brother? Have you spoken to the Knights of Bethlehem?"

Now Cesar was no longer an ordinary servant; he was a knight with land and a close advisor to the king. Although Gerald's Damara had written to break the oath between them—Cesar had sworn an oath to her and kept his promise when they returned to Arathal—everyone knew that the Knight of Bethlehem was a man of his word and integrity, even though the oath had been short-lived.

When Damara made the request to him in Bielebas, he was just a novice knight and had not yet been formally sworn in; he could have easily refused.

But he didn't. He accepted the difficult task, and it was because he had the courage, wisdom, and strength to do so. If it were another knight, he would not only have wasted his time, but he might even have lost his honor and his life there.

If he were to present the wreath to Princess Hibil on such an occasion, he would have to swear an oath to become her knight. From then on, he would have to assume all the duties and responsibilities of every knight who had taken an oath.

The Countess of Jaffa knew very well that, given Hibyl's temperament, she would never easily let go of the useful tool that was the Knight of Bethlehem.

By this time, the Knights of Bethlehem had turned to the stands, and the previously boisterous crowd had fallen silent. They looked at each other, whispering amongst themselves, and Baldwin even stood up from his seat. For the first time, he looked at his sister with that cold, sharp gaze. He loved Sibil, but he would not tolerate anyone taking advantage of his relationship with Cesar to wantonly exploit and humiliate his best friend and brother—especially in front of him; it was almost a provocation.

He regretted it. Not long ago, Hibil had hinted to him that he wanted Cesar to swear allegiance to her, but at that time, he had simply refused firmly without offering any further admonition or reprimand.

If he wanted Cesare to become a knight of Sibil, he would have done so long ago. Those unaware of the truth might think that becoming a princess's knight wouldn't be a bad thing for Cesare.
Although Baldwin was often blinded by familial affection, he could still sense Hibil's subtle malice towards Cesar, and he also saw how Hibil "used" Abigail. The ruthless and unscrupulous way Hibil used him sent chills down his spine. If Abigail had not been the only son of the Duke of Antioch, Amalric I would have personally cut off his head when the incident occurred.

Not to mention that Cesar was a good man of noble character and unyielding spirit.

If he were Abigail, would he have granted Hibil's request? Not only would he not have, but he would have tried to persuade and stop Hibil—but to Hibil, that would have been betrayal.

But if César did not present the wreath to Sibil, it would also be a betrayal to Sibil, and he would face her endless revenge—he was not yet a count or the son of a grand duke.

"Gentlemen, why are you all here?" A pleasant voice suddenly broke the silence in the room.

When people recognized who it was, a long sigh swept through the stands and the field. Everyone looked at those around them, then chuckled softly. The sound came from a single sigh uttered by them all at once: "God bless," someone whispered.

The person who made that sound was none other than Queen Maria, who shouldn't have been there. She was wearing a white robe and a black cloak, holding the young Princess Isabella in her arms. She wasn't wearing a crown, just a simple headscarf, which was a little crooked, as if she had arrived in a hurry.

Her face was not exactly beautiful, but at that moment everyone (except Sibil) felt that she was as beautiful as the Virgin Mary.

Who is the most noble woman in this place right now? Of course, it is Queen Maria.

Hibil stood there, his face alternating between pale, flushed, and ashen, when Countess Jaffa loudly reminded him, "Please pay your respects, Princess." The surrounding noblewomen couldn't help but laugh, even those Hibil had brought. After paying her respects, Countess Jaffa, disregarding the princess's reaction, casually returned to her seat.

Queen Mother Maria did not come on foot or in a carriage; she rode on a tall Arabi horse—one of Amalric I's relics—with her ladies-in-waiting following behind on horseback. She walked directly into the field to face César.

César gave her a grateful smile and slowly moved the tip of the spear toward the Queen Mother. The Queen Mother calmly reached out and took off a garland, placing it on the head of her youngest daughter, Isabella. She looked down and realized that she had come in a hurry and had nothing to give César in return. So she took a ribbon from the little princess's hair and tied it to the tip of the spear.

It looked a bit ridiculous that such a sharp and long spear was only tied with a thin ribbon, but when Cesar raised it, the cheers from the audience far exceeded those of any previous performance.

(End of this chapter)