kingdom of nations

Chapter 231 The Second Marriage (Part 1)

“This must be a huge expense.” Cesar naturally reached out and let Dandolo put his arm around his, a subconscious expression of respect and consideration.

Dandolo's age. Even by the standards of that other world, he was a true elder, not to mention that, according to rumors, he was not exactly a "whole" person. However, according to Portia, his grandfather was sometimes like a mischievous child, constantly needing to be helped or guided, and complaining of finding hair or worms in his soup.

He often referred to himself as "the blind man," but he also frequently berated officials in parliament for being so stupid that he couldn't bear to look at them—meaning that his eyesight depended entirely on his mood.

Dandolo was in a very good mood right now. Of course, he didn't give such a large dowry without expecting anything in return; he wasn't a saint.

After dinner, he and César had a brief discussion about what the Venetians would gain from the marriage, or rather, what the Dandolo family would gain.

Undoubtedly, Cesare was no less generous in this regard than the Byzantine emperors, promising trade privileges in twelve ports and important cities, just as Alexius I (Komnen's first emperor) had promised, granting Venetians the same 10 percent tax exemption in Cyprus.

Similarly, in these cities, they could still have a street and a shop. Cesare also added a church, although the Venetians might have to pay for its construction themselves. However, this was not a problem for the wealthy Venetians, and it was also a way to curry favor with the Roman Catholic Church.

Although the current Alexander III certainly doesn't like Cesare and the Venetians very much.

"Do you want Cypriots to convert to the Roman Catholic Church?"

César paused, a pause that was immediately caught by the astute Dandolo. “No,” César said, “I don’t have that idea yet; it may be a few years.” In fact, César didn’t care what his people believed. As long as they were willing to abide by his laws, and did not betray or do anything against human nature, they could live quietly according to their usual habits.

But he absolutely could not say such things aloud. He rejected the niece of Pope Alexander III, which could be explained by his excessive piety inability to accept the illegitimate daughter of a clergyman—but that certainly didn't sound very good.

People might say he's too straightforward or doesn't know what's important—but if he says he doesn't intend for the pagans in his territory to convert to the Roman Catholic Church, then there's a big problem.

Even now, in Arrassa, Antioch and Tripoli, and other cities ruled by Christians, there are many pagans, but at least on the surface, they are distinguished from Christians, and each ruler promises the Roman Church that he will convert them to the Church as soon as possible.

Dandolo smiled slyly at that moment.

Well, as Venetians who leaned towards the Roman Catholic Church in faith and were politically aligned with Byzantium, they didn't really care much. Of course, the church still had to be built; it would benefit both them and Cesare.

However, this is only a preliminary agreement, and it will take several more days of consultation and negotiation to finalize it.

"Where will you be staying? The room next to mine, or with your granddaughter?"

“Let’s stay with Portia. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

Dandolo said he was quickly taken to the Rose Garden, and as soon as he stepped into the rose-filled courtyard, he saw Portia rushing toward him.

The girl hugged her grandfather with great joy. Her previously anxious heart finally calmed down completely.

Dandolo slightly bent his knees so that Portia could kiss his cheek effortlessly. Then he gently pushed Portia away, observing her current attire and expression.

He had already heard that the former governor's cronies even planned to dress Portia up as a second Princess Anna in order to win César's favor.

What he saw now was still the girl running on the bridges and roads of Venice. She wasn't wearing a hat or a headscarf, revealing a small part of her chest and collarbones. Her long robe, cinched at the waist, made her as light as a bird on a branch.

Portia, overjoyed, happily took her grandfather's arm and entered the Rose Court. Although the room had been prepared by the servants, Portia had also adjusted many things according to her grandfather's habits. Dandolo could tell that Portia had a lot to say to him, and he also had a lot to say to Portia, but it was already late at night.

He never makes decisions when he is tired, and he rarely speaks, so as not to make wrong judgments or leak secrets.

Today was the same; he told Portia to go back and rest as well.

The next morning, Dandolo was awakened by a series of rhythmic calls. He sat up, squinting, and called for a servant to help him dress. "What's going on outside?"

"The knights are training, and the market outside has opened."

"Aren't the knights in the military camp? Or are they just knights stationed here?"

"The military camp outside the city has been abandoned for a long time, and it will take some time to repair it. These days they are staying in the governor's palace."

The governor's palace was more than enough for the governor and his family, their servants, and a small number of guests. However, it was a bit cramped to accommodate hundreds of knights and their squires, servants, artisans, priests, and monks. Therefore, Cesar temporarily rented a space from the market for the knights to use for strength training.

"After they get married, we still need to find a way to expand and improve the Governor's Palace," Dandolo said.

After 1171, Dandolo began to prefer quiet and dimly lit rooms, but today he had a different interest. He stopped the servants from lowering the windowpanes and tapestries, leaned against the window and looked down. No wonder he could hear so clearly; the training ground for the knights was located at the foot of the walls of the governor's palace, not far from the market.

Knights had many ways to train their strength; they could lift stones, hammers, or even bundles of hay—which at that time weighed between fifty and eighty pounds.

Perhaps because today is a day of fasting, although church decrees only stipulate that knights cannot use metal weapons on the battlefield during fasting, out of caution, some knights will also refuse to conduct training that can only be completed using metal weapons on fasting.

What Dandolo saw was a line of knights, under the supervision of other older knights, repeatedly tossing and catching a heavy bag in the air. The bag made a rustling sound and was clearly heavier than an ordinary sandbag.

"They're polishing their chainmail." This is a win-win situation. Knights might use hammers or stones during training, but putting chainmail and sand together in a bag, tying it up, and repeatedly lifting and lowering the bag as a form of exercise works the same way. Moreover, the friction of the sand can polish the chainmail smooth and clean while training.

The knights didn't dress formally when they were training like this, especially since Cyprus was already very hot in June. In fact, they dressed much like Roman soldiers from hundreds of years ago, wearing sleeveless or short-sleeved tunics with their arms and legs exposed.

“This is truly a beautiful sight,” Dandolo said, almost to himself. “Did Portia live here before? Who arranged it? Was it the lord of this place or his sister?” His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself, but his servant knew his master’s increasingly suspicious nature after that calamity, and he immediately replied, “No, Miss Portia does not live in this room.”

Although, according to tradition, the best room in the tower should belong to Portia, Natia arranged for her a room facing a courtyard in full bloom with roses. Even though it had a window and a terrace, as an unmarried young woman, Portia could only see sunshine, flowers, and birds every day.

Dandolo's expression softened slightly. Although he believed women, like men, could pursue beauty, Portia was ultimately a pure young girl, capable of being bold. Perhaps many years after her marriage—but certainly not now, especially with the deliberate arrangement of someone with ulterior motives.

"What are you standing there for?" he scolded his servant. "Go and bring me a hot glass of wine!" It would be such a waste not to have a glass at this moment.

At this time, the Frankish and Italian churches still advocated humility and simplicity—though the popes and bishops might not have practiced them—and considered gluttony a sin.

The gluttony here doesn't mean you eat and drink like the Romans, eating until you're at your limit and then vomiting before continuing to enjoy food—they mean that people only need two meals a day.

Therefore, for a long time, both nobles and peasants would work for a period of time after getting up in the morning—whether it was complicated mental labor or heavy physical labor—until it was close to noon before they could have a real meal.

Then in the evening, there was only a simple dinner.

But if conditions permit, they will eat some cheese and drink a glass of wine when they wake up in the morning, just to cheer themselves up.

But what the servant brought back from the kitchen was not just a glass of wine, but also spices and sugar (at this point, Dandolo didn't know that those glistening little things were sugar), some cheese, and two pies. "You probably can't imagine," the servant exclaimed, marveling at the extravagance of the people here. "They eat three meals a day."

Dandolo wasn't too surprised. He had previously served as ambassador in Constantinople and knew that the Christians there had long been influenced by the Persians and Saracens and had begun eating three meals a day. However, when he picked up his wine glass, he noticed a small dish piled up among the exquisitely arranged dishes... was it candied fruit?
Curious, he pinched one between two fingers and held it in front of his eyes, examining it closely and smelling it. It looked like a translucent stone, but as soon as he brought it close to his nose, he smelled a familiar sweet aroma. He put it in his mouth, waited for a while, and sure enough, he tasted sweetness.

Is this candy?

"Yes." The servant's mouth also tasted sweet. When the kitchen staff brought him the dish, he didn't believe it until they gave him a small piece to taste before he was willing to present it to his master.

At this time, sugar was still considered a luxury in the Apennines. Although it was not as rare as before, its price was still comparable to that of honey.

Although they brought sugarcane to the Apennine Peninsula after the Crusades, so far, neither planting, workshops, nor workers have been able to achieve large-scale production. However, as the most powerful member of the Venetian Ten, Dandolo could not have been unfamiliar with sugar. He was even quite familiar with it, from the lowest quality dark sugar to white sugar that had been decolorized. But he had never seen sugar that was so solidified and would not melt quickly at room temperature or in the presence of moisture.

As a businessman, he immediately thought about how convenient this would be for transportation and storage, as well as for showing off—its color and shape were like colorless gemstones, very beautiful, worthy of being placed on the king's table.

Moreover, as he carefully tasted these sugars, they were clearly purer than any sugar he had ever eaten before, and had a special aroma. Was this Cypriot craftsmanship?
The servant shook his head. When he got the candy, he had subtly probed the cook, and the cook hadn't tried to hide anything.

When he remarked on the ingenuity of Cypriots in creating such a shape and texture of sugar, the chef laughed and said that it wasn't from Cyprus at all; on the contrary, it was a secret recipe brought by their master's sister.

They all knew that Natia had spent many years in the Sultan’s harem and had no doubt about it. To these crusader knights, the Sultan’s harem was like Ali Baba’s treasure trove, containing all sorts of rare and precious things.

They couldn't possibly inquire whether the previous Sultan Nur ad-Din had tasted this sugar.

Whether or not the recipe came from Natia, it didn't affect Dandolo's decision to include it in the upcoming negotiations.

Some nobles, in order to flaunt their wealth, would instruct their chefs to create all sorts of sugar sculptures at banquets, sometimes a bird, sometimes a palace, but these sugars were easy to melt or spoil.

He could imagine that if someone served such candy, even without any shaping, its ice-like texture and unique flavor would surely win over a large number of people. Moreover, it was hard enough that it would not melt easily, and it would be even easier to make other shapes.

Dandolo already had a plan, so he stopped focusing on the new sugar. He held a glass of mulled wine, leaned against the window, and looked down at the view. Indeed, even if he weren't a woman, he would be happy to see such an exciting sight.

Knights undergo strength training almost throughout their lives, without ever stopping. After all, once they put on chainmail, helmets, and other protective gear weighing thirty to forty pounds, it doesn't mean they can just stand there and wait for the enemy to charge at them.

They had to mount their horses and charge into battle fully armored, raising and lowering spears or wielding swords.

During siege battles, they also had to climb siege towers and ascend ladders.

In dismounted combat, they would fight the enemy face-to-face just like the infantry. They might have to sprint, roll, and leap. How much merit they could gain, or at the very least, whether they could save their lives, depended entirely on how much effort they had expended in their previous training.

Even though these young knights had all been blessed by God, some of them clearly did not rely on strength. After tossing the bags of sand and chainmail twenty or thirty times in a row, some knights dropped the bags, letting them fall to the ground.

Of course, he immediately drew ridicule from those around him and a stern rebuke from the old knight. Only after everyone had thrown a hundred times did they finally have a chance to rest.

Dandolo had noticed before that not far from their training grounds, in a shady spot, there was a deep well with the latest pressure water extraction equipment around it—people had gone there to drink water before, and their cattle and horses would follow behind, drinking the cool, clear water with their owners.

Dandolo paid more attention to the well and found that the fee wasn't expensive; a copper coin was enough for a person to drink to their heart's content.

He assumed the knights would also go there, or perhaps to drink light wine, and indeed someone brought out a wooden barrel. When the barrel was opened, what overflowed was neither ordinary water nor light wine. Dandolo leaned out of the window and carefully sniffed the faint scent in the air. Though faint, he immediately recognized it—it was tea leaves.

In Central and West Asia at that time, tea had become a commodity, of course, very expensive and rare. It was only found in palaces, temples and pharmacies—as a medicine, it was highly sought after by the nobles and officials of the time.

While in Constantinople, Dandolo also enjoyed tea on several occasions. In contrast to coffee—which at this time was different from coffee in later generations, people still only used the pulp of the fruit, discarding the kernel, the coffee bean, aside.

Coffee can indeed be stimulating. But Dandolo believed that tea was more natural and fresher than coffee. "He actually lets his knights drink tea?"

(End of this chapter)