kingdom of nations

Chapter 193 The Ban on Laughter (Part 1)

When the group finally stepped into the grounds of the Grand Palace, what Heraclius had taught them in class was finally brought to life.

Constantinople is also a city built on hills, and it is also known as the City of Seven Hills, sharing the same nickname as Rome.

When Constantine the Great chose this place as the site of his new capital, did he gaze upon it and think of another ancient and magnificent city?

He may have vowed to build his new Rome to be even more magnificent than the original Rome. And he did it. Even though Constantinople still had beggars and slums, at least in places like the Colosseum, the Cathedral, and the Grand Palace, it was in no way inferior to the palaces built by the emperors of ancient Rome.

This is a vast complex of buildings, several times larger than the adjacent arena.

The emperor lived, enjoyed himself, and conducted state affairs here. In the past, Roman emperors could walk the streets, in military camps, and chat with the people in bathhouses. But now, the Roman emperor was surrounded by eunuchs, and commoners could hardly see his face. Even generals and ministers needed to be informed through layers of intermediaries.

The court was bustling and noisy as usual, but everyone wore a subtle smile. Manuel I was still unwilling to admit that he had only suffered a complete defeat in the battle against Arslan II.

He believed that, in any case, he had brought the main force of the army back to Constantinople intact without causing too much loss to his subjects. However, everyone has eyes, mouths, and ears. The nobles, generals, and governors who followed him back not only gained nothing but also nearly died at the hands of the Turks, whom they had always looked down upon.

Although they were filled with rage, it was impossible for them to organize another expedition at this point. At least for the next few years, their anger would be directed only at Manuel I.

As Alexius led the entourage into the banquet hall, some nobles exchanged meaningful glances. Manuel I's actions weren't entirely wrong; for example, he made his eldest son illegitimate, stripping him of his rightful privileges.

All I can say is that after this crushing defeat, if Alexius had remained the emperor's eldest son, still possessing the legitimate status and right of succession, his subjects would surely have swarmed around him long ago, stripped him of his silk robes, removed his crimson sandals, and banished him to a monastery.

Unfortunately, Manuel I only had a six-year-old son, the son of a Frankish woman. Upon his accession, his Frankish mother would undoubtedly act as regent, a position the Byzantine Empire utterly despised.

Manuel I's first wife was also an outsider—the sister-in-law of Conrad III—and equally dull and uninteresting. She regarded some of the Byzantine nobles' behavior as blasphemy and crime, and constantly rebuked them, completely unaware of how dangerous it was for her to marry alone into such a distant and unfamiliar country and not know how to conceal her sharp edges.

Sure enough, she died after giving birth to a son and two daughters. People said she died of illness, but who knows?

Although Manuel I appeared very angry and sad, he must have also played a part in it – at that time he had already made an agreement with Constance of Antioch to marry her daughter Mary.

With the emperor's tacit approval, the nobles in the palace killed the first queen, but the second queen also failed to win their favor.

They all wondered if this was a common trait among Frankish women, who considered themselves pious and chaste, yet never considered that nothing in the world could be judged by the books they had read or the teachings they had heard.

It can only be said that she can still endure it now, simply because she is one of the many bridges between the Byzantine Empire and Antioch. Before Antioch is completely annexed, she can still live what she thinks is a peaceful life.

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 banquet was held in the Golden Banquet Hall.

The first thing people saw, of course, was Manuel I. The emperor wore a heavy crown, almost the size of a whole stone cannonball, which stood high on his aging head. Its dazzling brilliance only made the emperor appear even paler and weaker.

Traditionally, it wouldn't be appropriate for such a relaxed and cheerful occasion.

Everyone knew that this was Manuel I's shield, not a crown, a reminder that he was still the ruler of the entire Byzantium and the king appointed by God.

But this silent declaration, like the crimson robe he wore, was heavy and stiff, yet empty inside.

However, when the emperor, holding the sacred orb and scepter, wearing crimson leather sandals, sat on the golden throne, all he could see was the figure prostrate on the ground.

Regardless of what they thought, whether they were officials in white robes with purple trim or generals in lamellar armor, at this moment, they still called him "Basilus," and remained his slaves and tools.

This idea satisfied him. In this situation, the few people who simply stood up from the table but did not kneel down were quite conspicuous.

"Are those barbarians from Arazarus?"

After being allowed to stand, a friend of the deacon, who was in charge of diplomatic affairs, asked in a low voice, "Yes, that is the King of Arrasa, the Count of Edessa, the Count of Tripoli, the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, and the Grand Master of the Knights of the Good Hall."

The layout of the Golden Banquet Hall completely follows the Roman architectural style. It is a huge rectangular hall with a colonnade on the outside and one side facing the sea, completely open.

In this hall, diners can look up and see the clear blue sky, the surging sea, and the white sails drifting between heaven and earth. Whether it is dawn, noon, dusk, or night, this place presents a variety of beautiful views.

But today, people are hardly in the mood to appreciate the golden sunlight and the tide. Who is it? They are all asking the same question as the deacon's friend. Manuel I's location is, of course, the best. The original architect even extended a small hall with a domed ceiling at the northernmost end of the building, a feature that drew criticism from some clergy because it resembled the apse of the church too much.

Especially the place where the emperor's dining table was placed—if this were in a church, it should have been occupied by a sacred altar.

Undoubtedly, the designer, or rather Manuel I, intended to place the earthly king on equal footing with the heavenly ruler, but he used this rather subtle metaphorical approach, making it difficult for the priests to criticize or obstruct him.

But for the emperor, this position was entirely deserved. He sat at the dining table, with his wife and son beside him; the young prince, only six years old, was being held tightly in the empress's arms.

Manuel I felt a sense of pride, knowing that as long as the officials of the Byzantine Empire were not foolish enough to gleefully welcome the rule of a Frankish woman, they would never be able to overthrow him easily.

They may have grievances, but that's alright. Once the first batch of taxes from various provinces are collected, he will have a powerful tool to persuade them.

On either side of the domed foyer are nine large recessed niches. In a church, these niches are usually used to display icons, but now they serve as a dining room that can accommodate six people.

It easily evokes the image of a small dining room used by the ancient Romans to entertain relatives and friends. In the courtyard-style houses of the ancient Romans, there was usually a large dining room that could accommodate ten or even dozens of people.

However, some residences may have a small dining room, usually located on one side of the owner's residence in a secluded location. There are only three dining tables, one for the owner and two for the guests. Even if two people can lie down on one dining table at the same time, it can only accommodate four people at the same time.

The tables between the dining tables were small and exquisite, and the slaves often had to remove the original dishes again and again before they could put in new ones—while the masters and guests often negotiated deals or conspiracies over the repeated clinking of glasses.

These nine niche-style dining rooms were reserved only for those closest to Manuel I, either blood relatives or his most trusted ministers.

Previously, the dining room closest to Manuel I belonged to Alexius, but today he stepped back, giving the position to several unfamiliar Frankish knights. Two young men stood out, one wearing a white silk tunic and the other a black velvet tunic.

The only thing they had in common was that they both wore a deep purple sleeveless cloak. This was a gift from Manuel I, and anyone who could wear this color was practically a Caesar—a title second only to Manuel I in prestige.

People soon learned that the two young men were none other than Baldwin IV, King of Arrassal, and his close friend, Count Cesar of Edessa. No one objected to the King of Arrassal receiving the purple robe as a reward, while the Count of Edessa received the reward because he had saved the emperor in the swamp.

"If you ask me, if he knew the magnitude of his mistake, he would be devastated and beat his chest in regret," the deacon's friend said in a barely audible voice.

"Stop talking nonsense, he's not a Byzantine." The deacon glared at him, and his friend, as expected, smiled and stopped talking, continuing to watch the two young men. This action was not abrupt; in fact, almost everyone present was either openly observing them, cautiously observing them, or secretly observing them.

"This isn't as good as the little things you made," Baldwin said, trying out the fork with some dissatisfaction. He was, of course, referring to the chopsticks made from twigs that Cesar had casually picked up when he first came to serve him.

People at this time, especially those who believe in God, still consider it natural to use their fingers to eat. Otherwise, why would God have given you five fingers?

The only difference is that commoners use five fingers to grasp things, while nobles use three, even though both become greasy and dirty. When nobles use their thumb, index finger, and middle finger to pick up food, they feel far more noble and elegant than commoners.

But just as they always regarded the people of the Byzantine Empire as heretics, the people of the Byzantine Empire also considered them to be a group of uncivilized barbarians.

They had been using forks and spoons for over a hundred years, but the forks were different in style. Unlike later forks with three prongs, theirs had only two and were smaller. The spoons were similarly smaller. This caused Christian knights, who were used to eating with their fingers, to be clumsy when using forks, unsure of how to handle the relationship between the fork and the food.

For example, Raymond and the two grand commanders beside them simply abandoned cutlery, since it was just a fancy thing the Byzantines came up with anyway—that's what they said—and continued to eat with their fingers.

In contrast, Cesar and Baldwin were able to use both types of cutlery very well.

Because of Baldwin's persistent ailment, Cesar was very careful about his personal hygiene. Although eating with his fingers would not worsen his condition, if he did this for all three meals a day and could not bathe and change clothes frequently, this hygiene habit would inevitably attract insects that would chase and bite him. These insects would damage the skin's outer barrier, causing swelling and ulceration. Ordinary people would recover quickly, or at the very least, they could go to a priest, but Baldwin could not.

Therefore, apart from some more formal banquets, Baldwin would also use cutlery in private, when it was just him and Cesar. Of course, the most common cutlery was spoons, and there were also chopsticks provided by Cesar. Anyway, after the meal, these cutlery were simply broken and thrown into the fireplace, and no one would notice.

However, when using a fork, although his right hand did not go numb from time to time like his left, he still could not do it as skillfully as Cesar. He watched with some envy as Cesar used that fork to pick up slippery sweet and sour shrimp, scoop up olives rolling around, and even lift up smooth goat cheese and put it into his mouth whole.

"How did you do that?" he couldn't help but ask.

“Just be gentle, take your time, there’s no need to rush, no one here will hurry us anyway,” Cesar said. Before coming here, he had been using chopsticks for decades and was already very skilled at controlling the pressure on his fingers.

Although Baldwin had been using chopsticks with him for several years, he still struggled with balance and strength, not to mention that the heavy solid gold fork was much more cumbersome than the light wooden chopsticks.

(End of this chapter)