kingdom of nations

Chapter 199 The White Flax Will Bloom with Red Flowers (Part 2)

When the bouncy clown led the monk forward, Baldwin and Cesar both exclaimed in surprise.

They were sitting next to Manuel I, who was a sensitive man by nature. He immediately turned his head and asked with a kind smile, "What, do you know him?"

Upon hearing this, the ministers and eunuchs around Manuel I broke out in a cold sweat, especially the head eunuch and the young eunuch he had ordered to find such a prophet for Manuel I.

In that instant, their faces were numb. Manuel I was so suspicious that if he suspected them of collusion, no matter how the monk they found knew the King of Arrassal and Cesare, as long as Manuel I believed that his appearance was a deliberate scheme, none of those present could escape punishment.

Baldwin, however, didn't care at all. He had received a Frankish court education and knew little about the intrigues and power struggles of the Byzantine Empire.

When the emperor asked this question, he naturally replied, "When César and I were very young, we met him in the market outside the Golden Gate. At that time, he used geomancy to predict our future. By the way," he looked at César, "we, and Damara, right?"

Cesar nodded. "Yes, and Damara too."

Upon hearing this, Manuel I immediately became interested. He shifted his gaze to examine the unfamiliar monk and found that his appearance, physique, and clothing were unremarkable, making him appear like an ordinary mortal. "Are you wearing a shawl? Or a shawl?" the emperor asked, inquiring whether the monk was a penitent.

Many monks, upon hearing that they were to meet a high-ranking official, would certainly dress themselves up meticulously, but not in the glamorous way that people imagine—the Byzantine Empire had a very clear class distinction in clothing, from colors and materials to the types of jewelry; anyone who dared to overstep this distinction would face severe punishment.

But there were many ways to demonstrate to Manuel I how devout they were. Generally, they would dress simply and wear a kusa (a leather band) close to their skin, inlaid with iron thorns. This way, whenever they moved or bowed, the thorns would pierce their skin, causing their blood to flow down their thighs.

Another method is to wear coarse linen clothing. Unlike iron thorns, it will not leave deep marks on a person immediately, but it can damage delicate skin through prolonged friction.

If they wanted to go further, they would even whip their backs the night before and deliberately not seek treatment, so that the blood would soak through their clothes.

Manuel I had seen these tricks before, but when the monk simply shook his head and said, "No, I am just an ordinary monk," the emperor was even more disappointed. Although he knew that most of the ascetics he had met were deliberately created, as an old man, he couldn't help but yearn to meet a virtuous person to ensure that he would one day ascend to heaven, sit alongside saints on the sacred staircase, and bask in the glory of God.

"You performed divination for them, and what was the result?"

This direct questioning was rather aggressive and disrespectful, but Manuel I didn't care about such details. The monk glanced at the young couple, especially that wretched green-eyed brat—his expression was very peculiar: "I first performed a divination on the little girl, and the result was that she would receive glory, and this glory would accompany her forever until the last moment of her life."

Manuel I waved his hand dismissively, not caring about the fate of a little girl. "And then..." The monk paused, noticing the purple silk robes on Baldwin and Cesar, and realizing that the boy who had sought guidance for his mother had become the guardian of Arrassal.

"What was the result?" the emperor urged.

“I did not perform divination for King Arazarus at that time; he was seeking an answer for his mother. And my conclusion was that his mother would have two sons, one who would bring her glory, and the other who would bring her even more.”

"Are you talking about Countess Jaffa?" the Emperor said, as if to himself. He knew of Countess Jaffa; after all, in order to marry his niece, he had to first dissolve his marriage with this lady—Amalric I had gone to great lengths. How old was she? Forty or fifty? Could she still have a child?

Manuel I did not utter these words aloud, for to comment on a noblewoman, even an emperor, would be too disrespectful. Instead, he pointed to César: "Do you see him? This child beside me is like a jewel, like gold, and like the sun. He is a valiant knight who risked everything to save my life."

To repay this debt of gratitude, I will marry my daughter to him. Now, look at his face. Has his fate changed significantly since then? What kind of person will he be? Will he be illustrious? Noble? Will his life be long, and how many children will he have?

This immediately put both the Byzantine Empire and the Crusaders on edge.

Especially those close to the emperor—no one understood better than them the intrigues and struggles that erupted in the Byzantine court over the right of succession, where fathers and sons could harm each other, brothers could fight each other, and sisters could kill one another.

Although César was not related to the Komnen family by blood, wasn't he about to become Manuel I's son-in-law?

Tiberius II had passed the throne to his son-in-law Maurice. Although Anna was stripped of her status as a legitimate child, that status was merely a matter of the emperor's word. If this monk, in order to curry favor with Manuel I, rashly uttered some dubious prophecies, not only would the marriage be affected, but even the life of this Christian knight could become a thorn in Manuel I's side.

The monk merely glanced at it before revealing a smug expression. "It's you, you green-eyed little rascal. How were you that year?"

Cesar gave a wry smile: "It's terrible."

“Then this has been verified,” the monk said, then he turned to the emperor: “I made a prophecy for him, but to punish him for his disrespect towards a monk, I only divined what would happen to him in a year—the eggs would rot, the wine would turn sour, the sheets would be crawling with fleas, his hair would be full of lice, he would stumble on his horse, twist his ankle while dancing, and return from the hunt empty-handed…”

People were naturally curious and asked why. Even Manuel I was speechless after hearing the monk's complaints. At that time, Baldwin and Cesar were only nine years old. Although Cesar's order for the knights to tie up the monk, leaving only his mouth to bite the wooden pole and poke at the ground was indeed a bit excessive, it was also reasonable.

"So, have these prophecies come true?" the emperor asked.

“The following year, my father promoted Cesar and me to the position of squires,” Baldwin said.

Everyone, especially the knights, laughed knowingly. Making boys as squires, even if they were princes or dukes' sons, adults would intentionally drive them, making them work hard and tired, and treating them poorly in terms of food, clothing, and shelter—this was to temper their will and transform them from carefree children into warriors as quickly as possible.

That year was indeed a very difficult one for César.

Manuel I chuckled a few times along with the crowd, but he didn't forget his purpose: "Well then, today you can do some divination for him," he said seemingly kindly, "but don't be angry with a child, and he has already been punished—use your exquisite calculations, sharp eyes, and wise mind to tell me whether this star is rising?"

The monk sat down and, this time, he still used the slightly complicated but precise water divination method. He silently calculated in his mind, observed the scene reflected on the water, and then scattered them to observe again.

The crowd fell silent, some laughing, others waiting. After a moment, the monk raised his head, first looking at Cesar, then Baldwin, and finally fixing his gaze on Manuel I. Normally, such behavior would have been enough for Manuel I to drag him away and give him a good lashing. But now, Manuel I only wanted him to give a swift answer.

The emperor believed his words were still credible, especially given that the previous prophecy had already been fulfilled.

"You will encounter misfortune."

The monk stood up and walked straight toward Cesar. No one stopped him, perhaps because his appearance and demeanor were completely different from his previous amiable self. He raised his gray eyes, his thin lips seeming to proclaim a judgment from heaven: "I see, child, you will face a test, an extremely severe test. And this test will not be a one-time event; they will be like the rings of a tree, running through your entire life."

Your friends will weep for you, while your enemies will rejoice; you will be betrayed, betrayed by many…

He tried to continue, but Baldwin suddenly stood up and stopped him. "I don't believe it," Baldwin said firmly, even blocking Cesar's way from meeting his malevolent gaze. "I will take all the open and hidden attacks for him, I will protect him, I will give him power, I will not believe any false accusations against him, nor will I issue any decrees against him."

I am the King of Arazarus, the Guardian of the Holy Sepulchre. No one, however great, shall dare to trample upon my dearest friends and kin before me.

The monk was not angry; instead, he showed a hint of admiration. “Your courage and steadfastness are commendable, but child, what is destiny? Destiny is something that cannot be defied, something that cannot be escaped, something that cannot be changed.”

"You are now the king—but you are still a mortal, and your time is running out, Your Majesty, truly not much."

Upon hearing this, the Crusaders present could no longer contain themselves and stood up. After all, Baldwin was their king and commander, and such ominous words should not have fallen upon this young monarch.

"Okay, everyone, please step aside."

Manuel I had certainly enjoyed the show, and he was very pleased with both of their prophecies.

"It's just the nonsense of a cultivator."

He instructed his eunuch: "Take this fool to the woman, let him see Anna, and make her happy."

The eunuch was overjoyed, as if he had been granted a pardon. It was clear that Manuel I's mood had completely turned from unpredictable to positive; he no longer had to worry about being executed by Manuel I.

He quickly summoned two other eunuchs and ordered them to take the monk to the women in the harem.

The monk remained silent the entire way.

But he did not refuse Theodora's request. The monk's gaze swept over the faces that were pretty, charming, or elegant, and he saw their future—every single one of them, without exception, would sink into the mire, as if they had entered hell ahead of time.

Amidst this filth, the unfortunate princess seemed to be bathed in holy light; she was so beautiful and so pure—he whispered her future.

"The white flax has blossomed with red flowers."

Theodora had been smiling, not believing that the monk could say anything earth-shattering. In the eyes of the court nobles, these monks who used prophecy as a gimmick were no different from clowns.

They lack real talent and are unwilling to suffer, so they say ambiguous things to please the powerful. They don't pinpoint exactly when something will happen; they mostly say vague things, like prophecies about the sun rising or the moon setting. No matter how you interpret it, it's always right.

She considered this merely as a form of entertainment, and even had a plan of how much money she would spend to appease the monk.

When the monk said this, the scene immediately flashed into everyone's minds.

As Manuel I's most favored confidante, Theodora's expression changed. The girls around her immediately stopped smiling and fell silent, while the eunuchs frowned at the monk. Such a scene would surely terrify a mere charlatan.

But the monk merely glanced at Theodora casually and said, "You are first unfortunate, then fortunate."

He said this simply, and then turned to today's main subject: "The white flax will bloom with red flowers," he repeated, "and you and your husband will be deeply entwined in your wedding bed."

Theodora laughed as soon as she finished speaking, and everyone else relaxed. Indeed. The words sounded rather ominous, but if interpreted that way, it could be considered a romantic affair.

While inwardly criticizing the monk for his reckless speech, Theodora made a gesture, and the eunuch beside her immediately understood what the favored concubine meant.

Although they all knew that the princess still retained her precious virginity and had not been violated by anyone else, they also knew that the unsavory things in the Byzantine court had long been the subject of gossip.

As for the impact of a wife's chastity on her husband, one could say that if there is a dowry of Cyprus, even if she has been married three times or even worked as a prostitute, no one would refuse the marriage for that reason.

But from a woman's perspective, Theodora saw things very clearly. If Anna could give herself completely to this crusader, at least in her final years, he could retain some respect for her.

She turned to reprimand the girls who had started whispering and laughing, failing to see the indifference in the monk's eyes.

He was led out of the palace by the clown, and as he passed through those magnificent palaces and fragrant flower gardens, he murmured scriptures.

(End of this chapter)