kingdom of nations

Chapter 212 The One Born in the Purple Chamber

"Πορφυγενντη".

These were the last words spoken by Anna, the princess of the Byzantine Empire, a Greek word meaning "born of the Purple Chamber." Two-thirds of the people gathered in the room understood the meaning of this word. But Patriarch Heraclius, Baldwin, Cesar, and the Cypriots all thought it was just a groan of despair or a lament of resentment.

Did she regret being born in the Purple Room? If she hadn't been a princess, perhaps she wouldn't have suffered such a misfortune at such a young age. And most people after her misunderstood the meaning of this statement. In their various creations, whether in writing, drama, or painting, they only depicted Princess Anna as a pale and frail shadow.

She is like one of the countless stars hidden under the sun; only after she is freed from the protection and shelter of the Holy King can people see her shining brightly in the dark Sai River.

At this moment, Theodora is probably the only person who can understand Anna's thoughts and feelings.

“I will leave before the funeral,” Baldwin said, “though I would very much like to stay.”

His hasty departure was not due to any changes in Alassa or a rift with Cesar, but rather because before the wedding, Cesar was merely a servant to him, a landless count and a crusader knight. However, after the wedding, the funeral was officiated by Princess Anna's husband, a lord with land and real power.

When a new sun rises, it is best not to let any other person or thing be present that could undermine its authority.

“You don’t need to explain to me,” Cesar said, almost amused. “Do you think I would question our relationship because of this?”

“Of course not,” Baldwin said hastily, “but from my own perspective, at this time, I really should stay and comfort you.” Cesar and Anna had only spent a few months together, and to say that there was any deep affection between them was pure nonsense.

But the wedding ended too bloodily and tragically, and Baldwin knew that Cesar was a kind and grateful man; he had to thank Anna for the sacrifices and dedication she had made for him. Yet, he still worried—such a deep and bloody wound might remain forever in Cesar's soul, making it difficult for him to heal.

Patriarch Heraclius was also to set off immediately to return to Arrassa, and Baldwin was to make way for Cesar, who was to make way for the Archbishop of Cyprus.

He was the Patriarch of Arrassa, not Cyprus. Besides, Princess Anna had insisted that he officiate the wedding to place her husband's authority above hers. If he stayed and officiated at the funeral as well, it would only make the Crusaders seem like they were pushing their luck—it was necessary to put some pressure on these Cypriots, but being too aggressive would also provoke public resentment.

Considering what was to come, they should further solidify the public's impression of the new ruler—not a foreign crusader, but the lord of Cyprus. "Let the Archbishop of Cyprus handle the funeral arrangements. I think he will..." Chirac paused, then changed a word, "accept the appointment with utmost respect and humility."

The Archbishop of Cyprus was also left with no other choice. Why hadn't he fled in time when things happened? He was forced to become a witness for the foreign Crusader knight and Princess Anna; his name was already on the marriage certificate, and even before God, he had to uphold this vow and bear witness for them.

Not long ago, he also performed the last rites for Princess Anna. Do you think he ever considered refusing? Maybe for a fleeting moment, but was it really necessary?
He had heard that the Knight of Bethlehem, the Earl of Edessa, was a tolerant man, and perhaps it was because of this reputation that those people dared to take the risk. But from the moment the Earl of Edessa beheaded the eldest prince, the archbishop had completely switched sides.

He could tell that, compared to the other knights and nobles, this young man possessed a more fearless aura.

The Archbishop of Cyprus did not consider himself superior or more powerful than the Crown Prince. If he insisted on opposing Cesar, it was difficult to say whether Princess Anna's three major life events—her marriage, her last sacraments, and her funeral—would be performed by three different high-ranking clergy.

This is St. Lazarus Cathedral, the largest church in Cyprus, filled with hundreds of priests and monks. This means that choosing one from among them who is willing to follow the new lord's orders would be a piece of cake.

His submission was as smooth and fluid as mercury. Now he only hoped that this new lord could hold out in Cyprus for a few more years, for both the Cypriots and the Saracens, at least until he was called by God to leave this world. As for what would happen after that... well, he had no illegitimate children or nephews, so he didn't care at all.

"The messenger has departed (the messenger who informs relatives and friends of the deceased)," the Grand Master of the Knights Templar said as he entered. "The death knell has tolled." The sound will continue to echo from churches and bell towers throughout Cyprus, wave after wave.

Only a small number of Cypriot nobles attended their wedding. They were undoubtedly on the side of the Crusaders. The nobles who attacked St. Lazarus Cathedral were staunch Byzantine supporters and opposed the marriage, but most remained on the sidelines, waiting for a resolution.

If the Crusader knight who was about to marry the princess couldn't even withstand this wave, then they shouldn't expect him to be able to resist the Saracen invasion and the Byzantine Empire's exorbitant taxes for Cyprus.

“If these people haven’t arrived by the time Anna’s funeral is held, then they can be treated the same as the rebels from last night,” Cesar said.

He then looked at Theodora beside him: "And you, where are you going after the funeral? Staying in Cyprus?"

“If you think it’s alright, I’d like to go to Arrasa,” Theodora said. “I can’t stay here. That Cypriot nobleman already knows who I am, and that news will soon reach Manuel I’s ears. If he demands me from you and you refuse, he will surely blame you entirely.”

But if I go to the Arazares, you can say that I went on a pilgrimage to soothe my grief and sorrow and to pray for my poor daughter, and that I will not return to Constantinople for the time being to avoid being reminded of her, and that my niece is also there.”

She chuckled as she said this, remarking on Manuel I's numerous nieces: "It's understandable that a mother who has lost her child might be too grief-stricken to undertake a long journey." Of course, it's understandable. Although Cyprus to Arazari is even farther than to Atalea, it's certainly closer than Constantine. "In a few years, I'll vow to become a nun. Once I'm in the convent, unless Manuel I manages to conquer Arazari, he can't force me to return. God is the ruler of all, isn't he?"

Chirac glanced at César. Theodora was his wife's adoptive mother. With his wife already dead and his adoptive mother's arrival so abrupt, it was César's decision about where to leave this woman.

“Anywhere is fine as long as it’s not Constantinople,” César said, then looked around the room and asked the same question, “May I ask you something? How did you get here? I heard they rescued you from the sea.”

“Oh, that’s because of the Emperor,” Theodora said regretfully and nonchalantly, “I almost bit his throat off.”

The men in the room all let out a collective "Oh!" Each of them subconsciously sized up the petite Theodora. Though it was rude, they also cautiously observed her mouth—having been the most favored concubine for nearly ten years, Theodora was undoubtedly a rare beauty. Her beauty perfectly conformed to the Byzantine standards of beauty: black hair, thick eyebrows, bright eyes, a straight nose, and lips like roses. They simply couldn't imagine how a flower could transform into a wolf, tearing at someone's throat.

"You didn't succeed, did you?"

“If I succeed, why would I need to go all the way to Arazari?” Theodora said bluntly. “Manuel I will be furious. But don’t worry, if he knows I’m here, he will demand his niece from you. But if I go to Arazari, as long as I have a plausible reason, he will have to make other plans, after all…”

A smug smile crossed Theodora's face. "He wouldn't dare let anyone know that after being betrayed by his eldest son, he also had his throat ripped open by his own beloved concubine. They would laugh at him for being cowardly to a child and a woman. This big ship can't withstand any storms now, and he'll probably have even more to do when he gets back."

"More things?" Wasn't the Crown Prince's head stuck in the city wall? The Grand Master of the Templar Knights instinctively looked outside. Had they killed a fake?
"The eldest prince is dead, but he still has a son, doesn't he?"

"You mean Alexander? He's only six years old."

"What's wrong with being six years old? His mother isn't someone to be trifled with either, not to mention the ever-watchful Grand Duke of Antioch." Speaking of Antioch, it originally belonged to the Byzantine Empire and was its easternmost military district. Unfortunately, it was first occupied by the Saracens, and after the Crusaders recaptured it, they didn't return it to the Byzantine emperor but instead kept it for themselves. This is why Manuel I was so determined to take it back.

"So, based on your understanding of Manuel I, will he hold us accountable for the death of the eldest prince?"

Theodora leaned back slightly, a gesture that made everyone present, except for a few, skip a beat. "He will send an envoy to righteously condemn you. If possible, he will use threats and blackmail to force you to hand over Cyprus—just ignore him. If he could really cross the strait to attack Cyprus, the Crown Prince wouldn't have chosen this place as his secret base. But…"

She said to Cesar with a serious expression, "You face the same problems as previous governors of Cyprus: internal turmoil and external complexities. Your enemies are not only the Saracens, but also the Byzantine Empire, the Seljuk Turks, the Hungarians, the Tunisians, and possibly even the Armenians..." She didn't finish her sentence, but her gaze lingered for a moment on the Grand Master of the Knights Templar and the Grand Master of the Knights of Good Faith, her meaning clear: wouldn't the Crusaders want Cyprus?

Of course they want it.

She believed that many people must be saying that Cyprus was wasting its talent by entrusting such a young knight to him. "This will be a difficult trial for you, but if you can pass this trial, the benefits you will receive will be endless, and will not be limited to what you see now."

This is why she was unwilling to fake her death, change her name, and comfortably spend the rest of her life in the Frankish or Italian peninsula.

Theodora believed that if she made the request, Cesar and Baldwin IV would certainly grant it. But was the eldest prince the only enemy Anna had?
As long as she lived and as long as she retained that surname, she remained one of Manuel I's closest confidantes. This meant that, on many occasions, people would believe what she said.

Those born in the Purple Chamber were not merely children born from rooms draped with purple silk. From Theodosius I, who was once just an ordinary soldier but became the heir to the Roman Empire through marriage to the daughter of a previous emperor, and then Marcián, Zeno, Anastasius I, Maurice, Horta, Strachius, Michael I… they all rose to the supreme position of Basilius through the patronage of women.

Who were they originally? Ministers, generals, or even just an unknown soldier. Theodora looked at the dark-haired, blue-eyed young man standing beside King Arazarus, discussing what was to come.

His attire today was exceptionally simple. In the sixth century, the Catholic Church designated black as the official color for funerals, but at that time, black was not yet confined to mourning clothing. Therefore, although César had previously worn black velvet clothing, it represented solemnity and reverence, not a curse.

In contrast, his clothes today were not made of velvet, but cotton, and his belt was just black cowhide. His shirt and cloak were both plain linen, and he wore no accessories at all—except for the cross on his chest and the ring on his hand.

Just as Anna had hoped before her death, even though he didn't love her, he still maintained the respect due to her, and perhaps even some lingering affection. When he spoke of Anna, his tone was filled with guilt and regret. Clearly, even though Anna wasn't an unforgettable beauty, for this upright young man, her death was still regrettable, unlike some husbands who, after receiving their wife's dowry and getting rid of a troublesome wife, would only be overjoyed and excited.

Theodora had heard the words of the two fools who had violated the “ban on laughter” before, and she felt that the young man in front of her was more suitable to appear on the walls and windows of churches or palaces than the current Manuel I (Byzantine emperors at that time liked to display their images in public).

If so, what nickname would the people give him? The one with thick eyebrows, the tall one, or perhaps a philosopher? More likely, the handsome one, as John II once used. Unfortunately, this nickname was used to mock John II because he was very ugly. Theodora smiled, completely unaware of how chilling that smile was.

(End of this chapter)