kingdom of nations

Chapter 127 A Terrible Contrast

"What is Philip thinking? Doesn't he know he's creating a new enemy for the Knights Templar?" Raymond, sitting behind the table, merely raised his eyes upon hearing this, showing no interest in answering Bohemond's question.

Compared to Baldwin, who is only fifteen and will be sixteen next February, both Raymond and Bohemond are already mature men in their forties.

Before the Battle of Galilee, Raymond thought he could continue as regent for another ten or even twenty years. Although Amalric I had said that the regent should relinquish power when Baldwin turned sixteen, he also had a plan: as long as the young Baldwin IV was kept out of official duties and war (whether by illness or "mistakes"), who would trust him, and who would dare to trust him?

Even after leaving Arrassa Road, when he heard that Baldwin intended to go on a tour to inspect the defenses, troops, and fortresses of Arrassa Road, he didn't take it to heart at all—to him, it was just a child's whim.

“We shouldn’t have left Philip on Arrassa Road in the first place,” Raymond said. Compared to the previous Grand Masters of the Knights Templar, Philip’s personality was clearly more idealistic. Even though he often stood in opposition to Amalric I, it was all out of public interest rather than personal motives.

"He's donated all his territory. What do you think?" Bohemond retorted, unusually without much sarcasm in his words, but rather with more regret.

He knew Philip better than Raymond. Indeed, he was an upright and pious man, but so what? After they left, would he take a few hundred knights from Arrassa to attack Damascus or Egypt?
Stop telling jokes.

However, the harsh reality was laid bare before them. Baldwin had indeed defeated the previously invincible Sultan Nur ad-Din and his tens of thousands of troops with only a few hundred knights and a thousand soldiers.

Not only that, they also captured Nur ad-Din. Even though he was already on his deathbed and died shortly after entering Arazari Road, it did not prevent the Saracens from being at a disadvantage in the subsequent negotiations. He was a symbol of their faith and a leader who guided them forward. Even if Baldwin was not the kind of person who would desecrate the corpse of an enemy, they could not just leave him on Arazari Road like that.

Ironically, Nur ad-Din had said more than once that he wanted to die on Arrasa Road. He probably never imagined that his words would come true in this way.

Raymond mentioned Philip because these two seasoned commanders recognized him immediately—although Philip attributed the victory at the Battle of the Sea of ​​Galilee entirely to their king, Baldwin IV, who else could have controlled the entire battle and commanded the knights to calmly cut off, drive away, and confuse the Saracens?
There was no one else but Grand Master Philip, who had extensive combat experience. But he did not take credit for it. He even stepped back and let the people of Arrassa Road adorn Baldwin with praise and flowers. How did he know that Baldwin would not be the next Amalric I?
As an independent military organization, the Knights Templar could never get along well with the King of Arathi Basin. The glorious image he created for Baldwin IV would become a spear that would later pierce the Knights Templar.

This is the downside of idealism. He joined the Knights Templar not because of their current status and wealth, but because he always upheld the order's original mission—to defend the Holy City and protect the weak.

If he felt that Baldwin could do these two things, he would also side with the king without hesitation, and would not care at all about how the Knights Templar should continue to develop afterward—the Knights Templar were not his cause, fighting for God was.

Bohemond felt a surge of unease. He went to the window and gazed out at the city walls. Then something even more agitating happened: he saw several commoners or pilgrims—he could hardly tell them apart—wandering near the city walls, praying and pleading before the towering main tower—they were kneeling before the King of Arazari, as if…

Baldwin already had enough of a minor saint by his side. Now, the people of Arathal have elevated Baldwin to the position of the first Godfrey. Speaking of Godfrey, who doesn't say he is an impeccable paladin? If Amalric I were still alive, seeing this scene, he would definitely burst into laughter and wouldn't be able to stop.

This was exactly what he and Chiracló wanted to see, but he probably didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

"Thud!" A quill pen landed at Bohemond's feet.

The ink had stained not only the carpet but also the Grand Duke's robes. Bohemond picked it up reluctantly and placed it neatly on the table. "What good does it do to get angry at a quill pen?" he said.

Then he glanced at the documents on the table—and sure enough, it was the same old troublesome stuff again—the list of Crusader casualties.

In the previous Battle of Galilee, Baldwin did something that could almost be called crazy—charging a camp of tens of thousands with only a few hundred men—yet the casualties among the knights were negligible. In particular, the more than one hundred knights who charged into the camp with him suffered the most serious injury, which was probably Nurdin falling off his horse—allowing their glory to fall into the hands of the earth.

In contrast, the crusaders led by Raymond and Bohemond seemed to be punished by God for their disrespect for the king. They first encountered a storm, and after marching for several days and nights in the cold rain, everyone was exhausted. When the weather cleared, they were led into a muddy swamp by their despicable guide. When they finally managed to escape from the swamp, Murray's crossbowmen were already waiting for them.

The Crusader soldiers, cold, hungry, and exhausted, were utterly powerless as he slaughtered thousands of them. By then, they were already regretting their actions. Just then, Raymond received a letter pleading for help—Nur ad-Din and his army were marching towards Arrassa Road—which was indeed a rather good way out, although they were still somewhat unwilling to give up.

Unexpectedly, just as they were preparing to return to Arrasa, not only did Mulai's Turkic cavalry keep harassing them, but his master, Toglol II, also got involved. He and Mulai were like two vicious hunting dogs, chasing after them and occasionally rushing up to bite them.

Finally, they had to abandon most of their supplies, even some of their horses and weapons, and... some of their soldiers, before they were able to break through the encirclement and return to Arrasa Road.

Failure is not terrible. Even Amalric I once launched an expedition to Egypt, only to end up empty-handed and with nothing. But even the beggar on the corner of Arazars knew that this war was not just a war between the Crusaders and the infidels and rebels—it was also a war between them and the king.

They suffered a crushing defeat.

They would have to slowly taste the bitter fruit that followed—the dead soldiers needed compensation, the wounded knights needed treatment, and the deaths of the accompanying priests required an explanation to the Patriarch. Compared to these, the loss of supplies was only a drop in the ocean. All of this would likely need to be filled by the treasuries of Tripoli and Antioch, since they had no spoils of war to make up for the deficit this time.

Needless to say, the fighting here in Muller will continue. Why did the Crusades exist? Wasn't it to ensure the safety of pilgrims and the Holy Land? The news hasn't reached the Vatican yet. Once it does, the Pope will likely send a letter of condemnation very soon.

Especially when their young king, only a third of their age, so perfectly fulfilled his duties—achieving an undeniable victory over the Saracens, capturing their monarch, and ensuring that the Christians' "holiest of the holiest places" remained undisturbed and undefiled. As for the Patriarch of Arazarus, Heraclius, originally Baldwin's tutor, held his position entirely due to the support of the former king and the trust of the current one.

He wouldn't side with them no matter what. Bohemond glanced at Raymond, inwardly cursing him as a useless fool, but he had to offer a reminder: "Don't forget, an envoy from Syria is visiting today."

When he was still regent, no one could bypass him to make an agreement with these Saracens; this was perhaps his only chance to wield power.

"Cherish it." In the end, he couldn't help but make a sarcastic remark to Raymond.

Of course, he also needed to be present—Bohemond went back to his room to change his soiled clothes. And in the hallway, he unexpectedly ran into his son, Abigail.

Abigail was already a knight who had undergone the "sword-granting ceremony," but when he saw his father, he was still like a puppy that had been kicked into an ice cave. He even lowered his head until his chin touched his chest, almost running over to the wall, but Bohemond's cold glance was enough to freeze him in place.

The duke looked him up and down, especially between his legs: "The princess isn't pregnant yet?"

His direct and undisguised questioning caused Abigail's face to flush red, not from shame, but from anger.

Intriguingly, the princess has shown no signs of pregnancy in the past few months. In an ordinary marriage, if there is no child, people would usually blame the woman, believing that she is sick or has blasphemed God and deserves such severe punishment.

But in Abigail's marriage to Princess Hibil, people focused more of their suspicions on Abigail. After all, the princess was always very healthy, so healthy that some even said it would be nice if that health could be transferred to her brother Baldwin.

Moreover, she was tall, with very full breasts and hips, a rosy complexion, and a loud voice. No matter where you looked at her, you couldn't tell that she was infertile.

In contrast, Abigail, even compared to David alone, was excessively thin, with a pale complexion and purple lips, and looked like a cow or horse that could not produce good offspring.

Although his physique is inherited from his father Bohemond, with a pale complexion and purple lips, it is possible that he is under too much pressure. After all, his marriage to Hibler was not just based on simple love, or even a simple exchange of interests. Their child meant that the bloodline that people love and respect could continue.

Especially after Baldwin achieved such remarkable military exploits, people eagerly hoped that the princess would give birth to a son, and that during the more than ten years of Baldwin's reign, another holy king would be raised for Alassa.

Bohemond took a deep breath and told himself to get used to it: "What are you doing here?"

Baldwin had moved back to the main tower and was living in his father Amalric I's room. His attendants and servants had also moved, leaving the left tower empty. So, after purification and blessing, Princess Hibil and Abigail moved into the left tower, though they still each had their own room—only on the first floor.

Raymond and Bohemond were still living in their familiar right tower. "I... I've come to see your father," Abigail stammered, slowly clenching her fist. "I want to join the negotiations later."

Bohemond gave him a strange look. "You, what can you possibly do there?"

The unsparing contempt from his father made Abigail's face turn even paler. He controlled his trembling body, and finally, as if relinquishing something, knelt before Bohemond. "Let me go. Father, I beg you, let me go!"

He pleaded, but after waiting for a while there was no response. When he looked up, he saw Bohemond's face was only inches away from him. He was so frightened that he took a step back and almost fell on the steep steps.

“Your stupidity always amazes me,” Bohemond said with a smile. “It’s Hibler, isn’t it? She told you that if you can’t get a foothold in the postwar negotiations, don’t come back to her. That way you won’t be able to sleep with her or have children with her—and we can’t wait that long. Maybe in a few years, they’ll declare the marriage invalid—you’re afraid of that, aren’t you?”

Each word in that sentence was like an invisible hand, slapping Abigail's face again and again, leaving him dizzy and speechless.

“You came to me because of you—damn it, it seems everyone knows where my Achilles’ heel is,” Bohemond’s icy voice came from above. “You know I need a child, your child with Hibil, preferably a son, so you acted recklessly, knowing I had to do it.” He rarely used such a vulgar language. “I really want to go back to Antioch now and try having sex with your mother, see if I can produce another son—I think that hope is better.”

Abigail knelt on the ground; he was numb, but... he wanted Hibil; Hibil was all he had.

"Stand up, I really need to designate a place for you."

Abi should be laughing; he got what he wanted.

(End of this chapter)