kingdom of nations

Chapter 2 The Name Cesar

Amalric I only remembered the child after ten days or so.

As the guardian of the Holy Sepulchre, a strong and pious ruler who defended the rights of every Christian under the watchful eyes of the Saracens, he had countless things to do every day.

He had to maintain the security of the Holy Land; to balance the power of residents, pilgrims and even pagans near the Holy Land; and to ease the increasingly tense relationship between the two major knightly orders stationed in Alaska - the Knights Templar and the Knights of the Charity.

Meet, talk and threaten the greedy Venetians, Isaacs and Seljuq merchants so that these stingy devils will open their purses.

The money was to be used to fight against Mahmud of Zanzibar, Saladin of the Fatimids, and Karaeus II of Asia Minor, and to soften the tough attitude of the Byzantine Emperor Manuel - his wife had unfortunately passed away six years ago, and as king, he wanted to form a more stable alliance with Byzantium through marriage.

and his son Baldwin.

Ever since Baldwin was diagnosed as a leper, Amalric I was in a bad mood every Sunday during mass or other sacraments. The reason was that although Baldwin was still his heir legally, lepers were not allowed to participate in any sacraments in the church. This meant that when the king and his family - his only daughter Sibylle, ministers and lords - attended mass in the chapel of the Holy Cross Castle, Baldwin could only stay in his own room.

Amalric I had been thinking about how to solve this small problem. He thought of some monks who would take Communion for the injured and sick who could not move, that is, bring broken unleavened bread and wine in cups to them. If so, then he could also give a priesthood to the servants around Baldwin and let them do this. He told this idea to Heraclius, but Heraclius looked hesitant.

"What's the matter?" Amalric I asked kindly. "Is there a problem? I should be able to afford the salary for a priesthood."

"That's not the case," Heraclius said cautiously, "I've heard some rumors lately, I don't know if they're true or not..."

After listening to his words, Amalric I said nothing and turned away, but within an hour or two he returned to the chapel.

"I see, Heraclius," Amalric I said calmly, wondering if he had already chosen a burial place for those bold servants - they should have guessed that this would be their fate when they treated the king's son badly and disrespectfully.

"Everyone is always careless," Heraclius said, without much blame in his tone, not because of fear or dread. His friendship with Amalric I was not so fragile - Amalric I was a king first and a father second. He could not be inseparable from his children like a woman, not to mention that the greatest malice against Baldwin had been intercepted by the king outside the Fort of the Holy Cross.

Amalric I sighed softly. "That's not what worries me most." He stared at Heraclius. "Since... since then, Baldwin has hardly left his room. He doesn't speak to anyone, nor does he interact with them, except for the occasional visit from Sibyl. Even when faced with such humiliation, he was unwilling to tell me... Do you think Baldwin is too gentle?"

"He has a kind heart," Heraclius said. "I firmly believe that he has inherited your fortitude and perseverance."

"I hope so. Compared to leprosy, weakness and cowardice are what I fear most." Amalric I was silent for a moment. "...What about the child?"

Miraculously, even though Amalric I said this, Heraclius immediately guessed who he was referring to: "I was at the sanctuary just yesterday," the priest replied, "and he is completely well again, back to health, and busy with his work every day."

"Are you going to see him?"

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"Cesar!" a monk called out.

"I'm here!" the black-haired boy shouted as well. There were ropes across his front and back, with snow-white linen sheets hanging on the ropes. This was the considerable result of his busy work from Chenshijing (nine in the morning) to now - Wushijing (noon). The wet cloth swayed slightly in the September breeze, emitting the fragrance of water vapor. As he walked towards the monk, he sighed that fortunately there was enough olive oil and wood ash in the monastery to make soap.

"It is time to eat," said the monk. "We shall go to prayer and then eat. We have duck to-day."

According to church law, most Christians have to fast for more than 100 days a year. During the fast, you cannot eat any animal meat, including eggs and dairy products. During some longer fasting periods, such as the 40-day Lent, if it is strictly enforced, believers and monks will inevitably become emaciated and skinny.

So - many things have been expanded into the "non-meat" area, such as shells, water birds, beavers... Because they swim in the water, they should be counted as fish... So in Yalasa Road, ducks are "fish with feathers."

"Brother Martha did as you instructed and cooked the duck with sour wine, blueberries, and carrots until it was tender... While we were chanting, many of us were distracted by the aroma of the duck... We were punished and beaten, but they weren't angry at all..."

As the monk walked, he spoke intermittently, "Brother Marda left you some duck neck, but do you really want to eat that? You can eat a piece of meat. After all, you have only recovered for a short time."

"I'm fine now," the boy said patiently. He hadn't been seriously injured before. The most troublesome thing was his dislocated arm. The fainting and fever were all caused by hunger and tension.

This body had been well-nurtured. As long as he was out of danger, had a good rest, and had a few good meals, he would be a "little Samson" (the strongman in the Bible) again.

But he couldn't tell these kind monks directly: "You work so hard every day and often need to see the sick, so you need to eat more fatty and tasty things."

Fatigue and malnutrition can cause many problems, reduce the body's immunity, and make it more susceptible to infectious diseases. He can only persuade the monks as much as possible to ensure sufficient rest time, enough food and clean water.

You may not believe it, but in this era called the Dark Ages by countless people, the "sanctuary" built by monks to serve Crusaders and pilgrims had a scale, scope and function far exceeding many official residences.

This sanctuary, part of the Church and Monastery of St. John the Baptist, had forty-five rooms, separate quarters for epileptics and pregnant women, a large kitchen and storeroom, a water tower, a mill, washrooms, Roman-style latrines, and a spacious courtyard for drying clothes and bed linens. Here, men, women, young and old, rich and poor, could all receive care and treatment from the monks—a precious spiritual practice, as the saying went at the time, meant redeeming the soul while redeeming the body.

From what Cesar had seen, most of the monks did their work with great enthusiasm. Even though their medical methods tended to be more soothing and comforting, many patients who came here simply because of malnutrition or psychological problems were indeed cured.

To the patients, these monks are like angels and saints.

"Wait a minute," a voice suddenly called out, "That's Cesar, Cesar, come here, a distinguished master wants to see you!" A child wearing only a tunic and wooden shoes hurried over. He was the abbot's page. When the monk saw him, he quickly pushed Cesar and said, "Go quickly, don't keep the masters waiting."

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"Cesar?" Amalric I looked at Heraclius. "Did he tell you?"

"No," Heraclius said, "He had no memory of his past after waking up." He looked at the abbot, John, who nodded. "It might be caused by a fever. Overheated blood can damage the brain. This is a disease that even the most devout prayers cannot cure. It's August now, so we gave him this name." He hesitated for a moment: "If you think it's inappropriate..."

"There's nothing inappropriate about it," said Cesar, a Frankish name whose Latin meaning was more widely known—Caesar, the Roman emperor, the first Caesar to give his name to the month of August. "The title no longer has any political significance."

Amalric I said gently, "A blacksmith could be called Alexander, a farmer could be Henry, and it's not surprising that a servant would choose Cesar." He paused briefly. "Or do you think that the child might bring disgrace to the name?"

"Absolutely not!" John said firmly. Such words and tone made Heraclius look at him curiously. John was not the kind of monk who knew nothing about the secular world except asceticism. He was born in the Gerard family. Barnes of the Gerard family was the founder of the Knights of the Charity. Although the Grand Master of the Knights of the Charity is now Og de Balben, the influence of the Gerard family still has a place in Alasar that cannot be ignored.

"Let me show you his lessons," John said, hurrying to his desk and pulling out a sheaf of parchment. "He can count, arithmetic, speak and write Latin, Isaac, and Greek, and even compose simple poetry." He tilted his head in thought. "He also plays the harp, paints, and rides horses."

"He has received the education that a baron... no, a count's son should receive," Heraclius said. "Didn't you say he has forgotten the past?"

"Perhaps this education has been deeply ingrained in his bones," Amalric I said, his fingers tracing the uneven handwriting on the parchment—the ink was likely quite thick at that time. "Or perhaps he has his own difficulties that he cannot express."

While it's true that children from the Franks or Apennines were captured by Saracen pirates and brought to Alaska, or that pilgrims were harmed along the way, it's highly unlikely that a healthy child like this, who had clearly received a meticulous and thorough upbringing, would suddenly appear in the hands of an Isaac slave trader. To raise a child to this level would cost almost as much in gold and silver as he, not to mention the effort and energy that went into it.

Amalric I had seen too many conspiracies and deceptions in the world. For the sake of inheritance, a son could imprison his mother and an uncle could murder his nephew. Even if a young son who was overly doted on by his father could not take away the ancestral inheritance, he might divide the interests of his elder brother with the support of his father. If the elder brother was unwilling to kill his own father, he might directly take his younger brother out and abandon or sell him.

At this time, they heard a gentle knock on the door, two times, and then the person behind the door waited respectfully for a while, about three minutes, before there were two more knocks.

At the king's signal, John, who had deliberately delayed for a while, finally called out, "Is that Cesar? Come in."

The first person Cesar saw was Abbot John standing in the center of the room, a fat man who looked very happy and at ease. Then he saw the man sitting at the desk - Amalric I, King of Alazarus and protector of the Holy Sepulchre. He was not tall, but very strong, and his width was three times that of a monk who was serving behind him.

It may also be because the monk was a little too thin.

As the boy bowed and greeted the three nobles, Amalric I was also carefully looking at the child he had saved from the Isaacs' castration knife.

If you were to tell them now that the person standing before them was a slave, one hundred and two out of a hundred would disagree, for there would surely be some stubborn people who would shake their heads three times.

The dislocated arm had been reconnected long ago, and the wounds from the horses' hooves, dogs, and whips only left faint red marks, which made his skin look even whiter, not pale, bluish-white, or grayish-white, but healthy, moist, and as white as boiling cream; his fingers and toes were slender and tender, without thick calluses or ugly scars; his hair was as black as ebony, his emerald eyes were bright and clear, he had a broad and smooth forehead, long limbs, and an upright figure.

The most remarkable thing is that he does not have the recklessness common among boys of this age, nor the timidity and gloom common among slaves. His eyes are clearer and calmer than those of any of his peers.

"What were you doing, Cesar?" asked John, who made no secret of his fondness for the boy. "I saw you coming from the courtyard."

"I helped wash the sheets," Cesar said.

"Alas," John glanced at Heraclius and the king, "that is very heavy and strenuous work."

"But I did what I could." After waking up, he found that his body seemed thin, but it seemed to contain endless strength. Even extremely hard work like washing sheets (because it required constant rinsing, wringing and drying), he could do it more easily than others. He did not feel tired after finishing it, but instead felt a sense of comfort after exercise.

"What else did you do?" John asked. Heraclius knew that this question was for them - John was a little too attentive, and if he brought up the topic for that purpose, the resident priest guessed he might be disappointed.

Cesar was a little surprised, and his expression showed that he didn't think he had done anything worth mentioning in front of the king: "Tending the vegetable garden, caring for the sick, kneading dough in the kitchen, scraping sheepskin (to make paper), mixing ink... just a few small things."

"Something trivial..." Amalric I pondered. "Perhaps someone has told you that you are not of ordinary birth, but more likely the son of a lord... You don't have to do such menial work at all - is someone forcing you?"

(End of this chapter)