kingdom of nations

Chapter 214 Seven Days of Mourning (Part 1)
—"They got married on their first day,"
Farewell the next day

On the third day, the husband began to mourn for his wife.
He prayed for her until the seventh day before leaving.

This poem was written by a bard who was on the island of Cyprus at the time. Although it is short and straightforward, like a nursery rhyme, it is quite sad and moving. Everyone who hears it is moved by the sincerity in it. However, if you carefully search for its source, you will find that this poem has little to do with love. The truth hidden behind it is extremely bloody and cruel.

César kept his promise. Anna died at dusk, and the Saint-Pana family rushed to the city that very night, followed by several other families. They not only arrived but also brought the silver keys to their respective cities. According to Frankish tradition, presenting the keys to the new lord was tantamount to handing over the city's rule to César.

But after he took it, he simply placed it in the box to the side without a second thought.

A silver key meant nothing, as Prince Alexius had already proven—those who knelt before him, kissing his robes, could at any moment draw their daggers or longbows from behind him. However, his swift and decisive execution of Alexius had indeed shocked some. Although Alexius had been stripped of his legitimate status, he remained "the noblest," otherwise he could not have established a power base of his own in Cyprus.

Was he not afraid? If the emperor of Constantinople were to become angry with him, would he be able to withstand the coercion of a powerful monarch?

He was indeed not afraid.

Moreover, at that time, the King of Arrassa, Patriarch Heraclius, the two Grand Masters of the Knights Templar and the Knights of the Good Church, and Count Raymond of Tripoli were also in the cathedral. None of them stopped him, which suggests that their support for him was far greater than the Cypriots imagined.

Although their new lord is young, he is not merely a puppet as they thought.

They were willing to obey the eldest prince's orders to try and sabotage the marriage because they underestimated the young man—of course, they didn't initially intend to go so far; their original plan was to kidnap the princess and hide her in a place where the Crusaders couldn't find her.

If they could delay for a while and bribe a few more ministers, they might be able to persuade the emperor to change his mind. Even if he wanted to continue the marriage, they shouldn't use Cyprus as the princess's dowry. At that time, they still held onto a sliver of hope that the emperor might not have noticed the eldest prince's and their unusual behavior.

But now it seems they underestimated the emperor, and also underestimated this young knight.

"What is he holding in his hand?" the patriarch of St. Pana asked a priest in the cathedral curiously—it was held by their new lord, who would glance at each person who came by and then pinch it with his fingernail.

"I'm not quite sure either. But I think it might be related to you."

Indeed, it was related to this group of Cypriot nobles who wavered with the wind. On this parchment that was once tightly rolled up, the Cypriots involved in the conspiracy were clearly written down, and even the leaders, followers, neutrals and opponents were listed.

This intelligence was not given to Cesare by the Crusaders or anyone else; it was given to him by Kostas. If the other Cypriot nobles knew about it, they would surely think he was crazy.

Yes, although his family and his father were not the masterminds behind the conspiracy, they became the people's chosen leaders because of their noble birth. But Kostas, who was now waiting for judgment in the cathedral's crypt, soon discovered that those people may have been preparing to make his father a scapegoat all along, and had the tacit approval of the eldest prince, Alexius.

Throughout the entire plan, his father was not allowed to participate in the most important meetings, and he was never told about the inside agents or the specific details. Their family contributed a large sum of money and provided an army, which was even placed ahead of everyone else. If the crusaders in the cathedral had not been few in number and had not taken a cautious approach, their soldiers might have suffered a catastrophic disaster.

Moreover, while he was still at the mansion, he overheard his father arguing with those people—they shifted blame to each other, from who brought in the eldest prince Alexius, to who was the first to call him Caesar, to who went to Constantinople to bribe officials and ministers, and even Kostas was blamed for not stopping the eldest prince from seeking his own death—completely ignoring the fact that at that time the eldest prince was surrounded by more of their sons.

Kostas was asked to say that the argument was pointless. But then he realized that perhaps these people wanted to pin all the blame on his father and force him to commit suicide.

Although all Christians would consider suicide an unforgivable sin, in the Byzantine Empire, both in the court and on the battlefield, there were indeed many officials and generals who committed suicide out of fear of future punishment—presumably, once their fathers died, these people would immediately and gleefully take their heads to negotiate with the new lord.

Costas had to admit that he might have had a bit of luck; his captain had rescued Princess Anna's foster mother, which gave him the opportunity to meet the new lord.

He handed over the list without hesitation, but he didn't know what their new lord would do.

Will he wait until the Crusader reinforcements arrive in Cyprus before immediately launching a campaign of looting and slaughter, turning Cyprus into a second Arrassal?

As they expected, he preferred to negotiate with them, finding the Cypriots incredibly generous, as long as he was willing to maintain the status quo in Cyprus, and that they would readily provide any offerings he desired. While Costas was in an empty tomb, keeping company with the dead, a priest who had received favors from his family came to tell him that their new lord had made a rather lenient decision.

Costas was certainly more familiar with Cyprus than Cesar. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment, and he saw through the new lord's intention. Based on the farthest point—after receiving news of Princess Anna's death, the family patriarch and important members could mount their horses without hesitation and gallop day and night without wasting time on rest and food. Even the people of the Cresces Islands could reach Larnaca within the time required by the lord.

But if they wanted to gather together to discuss the matter, or to continue to observe, they could not possibly get to the cathedral by the time Princess Anna's coffin was laid to rest; at that point, they would only be considered rebels.

Some might say that this seems unfair; should they be forced to make such a hasty decision on such a big matter?

But for that new lord, time is also a test.

Costas believed that many clever Cypriots would realize the man's intentions and that they had to set off immediately, with almost no time or opportunity to collude with each other. Such hasty actions would also easily arouse suspicion among them—there was infighting and struggle among the Cypriot nobles, and the foundation of trust was already very weak.

As for the Crusaders, there were those like Saint Pana who readily joined the new lord, and of course there were also some with ulterior motives. But would they really dare to go to the lords who flew in from afar day and night to discuss their plans?
They dared not; they could not be sure whether the other party was so submissive because he was the husband of the daughter of the Byzantine Emperor Manuel I, or because he was a close friend and blood relative of the Knight of Bethlehem, the Count of Edessa, and the King of Arrassa.
If they rashly conspire with him, won't they be used as a stepping stone for others to climb higher?

Moreover, the distance to the city and the time of arrival are like a clear mirror, instantly reflecting everyone's attitude. If those who are closer arrive slower than those who are farther away, it almost proves that the former is not loyal. But when there is no way to contact each other, everyone can only do their best. How can they know if anyone will take advantage of the situation?

At least Costas heard that the Cypriots of Alusa, the second largest city in the Crizias, arrived at noon the next day. Although he almost fell off his horse as soon as he entered Larnaca and was eventually helped into the cathedral, the fact that he arrived meant that anyone closer to him who did not arrive was undoubtedly harboring ill intentions.

In that case, it would be perfectly justifiable for the lords to wage war against them, but some lords would certainly be too clever for their own good or simply give up and refuse to come. They might fear that the moment they step into the cathedral, they would be beheaded by their grieving husband, just like the First Prince.

But if they choose to cower in their fortresses, do they think they can escape by sheer luck? Of course not. Captain Giza has already told Costas that the Crusaders' ships have brought siege equipment.

Even now, Kostas didn't know if what he was doing was right or wrong, but he had only one thought—he was different from his father; he had no illusions about the Cypriots. If they were determined to make his father and his family scapegoats, he wouldn't mind pushing more sacrifices onto the altar.

On the third day, at 6 p.m., the last contingent of men finally rushed into Larnaca, their horses nearly impossible to rein in. Fortunately, the Crusaders in Larnaca were now experienced, and a blessed knight rushed out and seized the reins.

The horse was already at its last gasp; it collapsed, panting and foaming at the mouth, just as it was pulled back, tumbling to the ground along with its rider. The soldier dragged him from under the horse; the rider could barely speak, only managing to reveal the insignia on his body. "It's the Cresces Islands," the Templar Knight in white robes with a red cross immediately recognized the design.

The Crizos Islands, being close to the Principality of Antioch, have always been a popular stop for pilgrims on their pilgrimage routes. They are all familiar with this emblem—"Shall we be carried in a palanquin?" The chieftain of Crizos immediately waved his hand hastily. He could hardly believe that in the solemn main hall of a church, Princess Anna's coffin was placed before the altar, her husband in mourning clothes stood beside her, and a crowd of people were gathered around praying for the princess, while he was being carried in so casually in a palanquin…

Did he intend to hang himself on the city wall along with the eldest prince?
The cunning fellow simply chuckled, then ordered a carriage to be brought over. He threw the other men, who were equally exhausted, onto the carriage and shouted, "Take them to the cathedral!"

Although Princess Anna was confirmed to be buried in the crypt of St. Lazarus Cathedral, her coffin was still brought out, carried by priests. The Archbishop of Cyprus led the way, carrying a reliquary containing her hair and nails. Others followed on either side of the coffin, carrying scriptures, incense boats, and icons and crosses—these icons and crosses were excessively brightly colored, as they were all supposedly newly made—not for Princess Anna's sake.

In 726 AD, Byzantine Emperor Leo III issued a decree prohibiting the worship of idols. Simply put, this was to curb the rampant expansion of the church. On the grounds that idol worship should not be allowed, countless icons, vestments, and relics were destroyed, and a large amount of church land was confiscated. It was not until 843 AD, when Michael IV ascended the throne and his regent, Theodora, issued the Nicaean Code against the destruction of icons, that the iconoclasm movement gradually came to an end.

The worship of icons and relics has made a comeback, more ferocious and rampant than before. Even the poorest people hang gilded-framed images of saints on their doors, let alone the wealthy people of Cyprus.

As people carried torches and marched around Larnaca’s main road from the cathedral, people continued to arrive, but they couldn’t get close to the procession. It was a day and a night, and Cesar had arranged for knights to patrol and guard the area.

Some knelt in the darkness, pleading with the procession, while others glanced at them and turned away. Still others clashed with the Crusaders marching on either side of the procession, resulting in either expulsion or arrest.

The chieftain of Saint Pana was terrified. Wasn't he afraid that once they returned, they would immediately raise an army to fight against him?
“How do you know…” the patriarch of the Crizos Islands replied breathlessly, “Isn’t this exactly what our lord is waiting for?”

(End of this chapter)