kingdom of nations

Chapter 246 Worry
“Boy! Boy! It’s definitely a boy!” Baldwin said with absolute certainty. He was so excited that he paced back and forth in Patriarch Heraclius’s room, head held high, waving his arms and stamping his feet.

The last time he darted around like a monkey was when César was confirmed to be related to him by blood. Chiracio was about to say something when he was interrupted again.

"May I go to Cyprus?" he asked, then shook his head at himself. The expedition was imminent, and the knights who had answered his call were arriving in Arrassa. His halls were full of guests, and the streets and houses were crowded with countless brave men who were eager to make a name for themselves and serve God. As the king of Arrassa, the commander of the Crusades, and the guardian of the Holy Sepulchre, he could not spare even a moment of leisure.

For him, the prospect of even leaving Fort Sainte-Croix, let alone running from Arrassa to Cyprus, was slim.

"So, how shall we celebrate for him? A banquet? Or a series of masses?" he asked enthusiastically, then seemed to remember something and became even happier. "Oh, right, I still have about a dozen purple silk robes in my trunk." This was part of the reward promised by the emperor after they sent troops to rescue Emperor Manuel I of the Byzantine Empire.

When Princess Anna married, she had almost no decent dowry except for Cyprus. Baldwin took out half of it and added it to her dowry. However, after Cesar quelled the Cypriot rebellion, he returned it to Baldwin as tribute.

Baldwin was not the kind of person who indulged in luxury. He distributed most of it to his subjects and knights, but the purple silk robe, though precious, was not so easy to sell.

So Baldwin still had more than ten pieces left, "take them all to Cyprus, and have them use these silks to decorate a purple room for that child..."

“Wait,” Chiracio had to interrupt him. “I think you know what the Purple Chamber means?”

“Is it not allowed?” In any case, Cesar’s first marriage, to Princess Anna of the Byzantine Empire, had all the ceremonies completed.

According to the laws of the Byzantine Empire, he was already a member of the Komnen family, a member of the royal family, and Baldwin naturally felt that his child was entitled to be born in the Purple Chamber.

“This child has enough enemies already,” Chirac said gruffly. “Don’t get into trouble for him.”

Baldwin sighed in disappointment. "Indeed, babies are so fragile at birth." He rubbed his hands together. "Then could I send him the silver cradle I used as a child to sleep in?"

Heraclius felt the veins in his forehead throbbing like those of a startled deer. "Are you planning to hug him at his baptism and tell him that he will have Arazarus someday?"

Baldwin really wanted to, but seeing the Patriarch's ashen face, he knew he absolutely couldn't add fuel to the fire now. "Alright, alright, but we can't just pretend nothing happened, can we? At least... could we hold a tournament? I want everyone to know that Cesar has a child—not only his but also mine, teacher, do you understand what I mean?"

“I understand,” Chiraclius replied quickly, “but if you don’t want others to think this is another Uther-like affair, it’s best not to appear so excited.”

Baldwin's bedroom affairs were something he, Heraclius, and Cesar always tried to avoid mentioning, partly to prevent Baldwin's honor from being tarnished and the throne from being shaken. This matter was never definitively confirmed.

Therefore, for outsiders, whether Baldwin can still have a marriage and children is uncertain.

Although Cesar and Portia remained in Cyprus, Baldwin visited the newlyweds several times—and if he showed too much concern for the child, some rumors would indeed circulate.

It is known that King Euthyne believed the wizard's prophecy that he and the wife of the Duke of Cornwall would have a son who would become a powerful, wise, and intelligent monarch.

To this end, with the help of the wizard Merlin, he disguised himself as the Duke and spent three days with the Duchess.

When the Duke learned of this, he rebelled and was ultimately defeated by King Uther, who beheaded him. Although Duchess Iglesias later married King Uther as a widow and became his queen, their son Arthur, born before this marriage, remained an unacknowledged illegitimate child.

Therefore, unlike all crown princes who grew up in the king's castle, he was fostered by a loyal knight. Although he received systematic knightly training and education, before pulling the sword from the stone, he was indeed just an unknown nobody—no one told him that he was King Uther's son.

This background meant that even after he pulled the sword from the stone, was taken back to the castle by King Uther, became the crown prince, and eventually ascended the throne, it remained an indelible stain on his glorious image.

Heraclius's words, though perhaps unpleasant to hear, completely changed Baldwin's expression from joy to melancholy.

He knew that many people disliked César, whose influence on him was too great, preventing them from getting close to him, bewitching him, and manipulating him. Moreover, César was an upright man of high moral character and a very firm will. Anyone with evil intentions could not run rampant and act recklessly under his watchful eye.

Baldwin had no doubt that Cesar’s future children would be just as virtuous as he was, and would those people be happy to see such an heir on Alassa Road?
At that time, the schemers will not hesitate to use any means necessary, because whether in the Franks, Cyprus, or Arrassa, if an illegitimate child can ascend the throne, it means that hundreds of alliances formed by marriage have been desecrated and destroyed.

He would never allow his brothers and friends to suffer such humiliation.

“You’re right, teacher,” he asked dejectedly, “but is there really nothing I can do?”

"Congratulations are fine, and you don't need to go to Cyprus. Cesar will be back in two days, and you can go and congratulate him in person."

------

When Portia fell, everyone present was horrified.

Everyone vividly remembered the tragedy that occurred during César's first marriage, and even during their honeymoon, they were filled with anxiety and restlessness, wondering when and where some conspiracy might suddenly erupt without warning.

Several months have passed, and all is calm and peaceful, so people's vigilance has gradually relaxed—until now.

The first word that came to their minds was poisoning.

The banquet was, of course, attended by Cypriot monks and priests. Two priests immediately rushed forward to examine and treat Portia, while the Archbishop of Cyprus removed his cumbersome tall hat, bent down beside Portia, clasped his hands together, and murmured a prayer for her. As divine power flowed into Portia's body, her chest began to heave violently. She then opened her eyes, but could not focus—one of the priests lowered his head in disbelief: "I heard two heartbeats," he murmured to himself.

"She's pregnant." He said it softly, but it was like a bolt from the blue for everyone present. Dandolo, who was most concerned about the matter, reacted the fastest, immediately grasping Portia's hand and asking with great joy, "Is she carrying a child?"

“Let me hear it again,” the priest said, and everyone immediately held their breath, some even covering their mouths. In the silence, the priest listened intently once more.

This priest was skilled at listening to the patient's breathing, heartbeat, and even the sound of blood flowing in the blood vessels, which he could use to determine whether the patient was recovering or deteriorating.

Of course, aside from patients, he mostly listened to the sounds the fetus made in the mother's body, such as heartbeats and murmurs. He even once confidently claimed that a fetus was praying in its mother's womb.

He did not disappoint this time either, and the baby in Portia's womb was very strong. "Two voices, one loud and one soft," he repeated, "I didn't mishear. Yes, she is pregnant, and a child is growing in her womb."

Upon hearing the priest's words, everyone couldn't help but show joy or cheer eagerly.

Cesar looked down at Portia, whose gaze met his, and for the first time, a look of fear appeared on her face: "I'm pregnant, I'm carrying a child?"

“Yes.” Cesar didn’t doubt the priest’s words; what good would it do the priest to fabricate a lie and disappoint them?

Moreover, more priests would come to visit Portia, and this news was confirmed by others; one priest even determined that the fetus in Portia's womb was already three months old. In other words, although the child wasn't conceived on their wedding night as people had hoped, it was conceived during their honeymoon, which was undoubtedly the best possible news.

What's strange is that neither of them seemed overjoyed. While Portia's reaction was somewhat unbelievable, Cesar's lack of joy and his apparent worry were even more perplexing.

Portia's grandfather, Dandolo, was a worldly-wise man. He noticed early on that César didn't seem surprised by the news—although he had seen some heartless men who were indifferent to, or even disgusted by, their wives and children, he believed that César was not that kind of person.

Moreover, he was about to embark on a campaign, and what father wouldn't want his child to be born at this time? Even when Amalric I was about to launch a campaign against Egypt, he set the departure date after Queen Mary gave birth.

He immediately realized that César might be worried about what would happen next. While he was pleased to see the deep affection between the couple, he did not think that César had to stay by his granddaughter's side and not go anywhere to show his loyalty. In fact, this would not only fail to demonstrate his love but would also invite ridicule.

People wouldn't say that he was unwilling to go to the battlefield because he was attached to his wife and children; they would only say that he had become cowardly and used this excuse to refuse to fulfill his obligations. This would inevitably bring him a lot of criticism and accusations, and King Arazarus could even take back his fiefdom of Bethlehem because of it.

Cesar knew he could never stay with Portia, but he had to admit that Portia's belly had remained flat until now—which was a relief to him.

He hoped he could be by Portia's side during the child's conception and birth. This stemmed not only from a sense of responsibility and love, but also from his utter lack of hope regarding the medical technology of the time.

All I can say is that Portia was the luckiest person in this whole affair, as he was the same age as Portia.

At that time, people never considered age when calculating it. They believed that a baby was one year old at birth, so they said he was seventeen, but Portia was already a mature sixteen-year-old woman.

Compared to women in later generations who were advised to have children between the ages of twenty-five and thirty, sixteen was certainly a bit early, but compared to women in this era who often began giving birth at twelve or thirteen, or even fourteen or fifteen, Portia was already considered lucky.

Moreover, Portia was in better physical condition than the average noblewoman. She didn't enjoy sitting in her room for long periods reading the Bible or doing needlework; she preferred horseback riding, hunting, and playing golf—a sport similar to modern-day golf.

Previously protected by her grandfather, and now further indulged by Cesar, neither criticism nor cold looks could affect her ability to continue living according to her old habits. This made Portia physically strong and mentally healthy, greatly reducing the chances of a difficult childbirth.

The problem is that César was actually born by a woman—not just in his world, but also when the current Queen Mother, formerly Queen Maria, gave birth to Princess Isabella.

Even for someone as noble as Queen of Arrassalu, a princess of the Byzantine Empire, the highest treatment Maria could receive was nothing more than a production chair, a rope to pull on, and knights waiting in the square, ready to obey orders, whip prisoners, or draw their bows to fire blanks.

Aside from that, she was no different from other mothers in labor; there were no doctors or midwives, and the only ones who might be of some help to her were the wealthy women who had given birth before.

But there's very little they can actually do. At least as far as Cesar knows, the few things that might be effective right now are strong liquor, opium, and a warm linen towel that can be placed on the mother's stomach to ease her pain.

Even so, all of this must be done secretly. This is because God punished Eve for tempting Adam to eat the fruit of knowledge with him, making her and her female descendants suffer the pain of childbirth—a punishment women must endure. Anyone who tries to intentionally escape this punishment is considered impious.

You might say, "What about priests? Aren't priests able to cure diseases and regenerate limbs? Ensuring the safety of mothers and babies shouldn't be too difficult for them, right?"

However, for the same reasons mentioned above, they can only pray for the mother and child, and cannot use God's blessings and the grace of the saints here.

“I think I was just too happy.” Cesar looked at Dandolo, and in the end, he still said the same thing. Although Dandolo was a tolerant, rational elder who loved Portia very much, as a man and as a Christian, it was impossible to change his mind that had not changed for decades.

César was almost certain that if he voiced his concerns, Dandolo's first reaction would be to donate more Masses to the church. For the first time, César felt the weakness that comes with powerlessness. With a heavy heart, he walked into the room and, surrounded by people, embraced and kissed Portia, welcoming the arrival of the child with her.

When he looked up, he saw his sister Natia.

(End of this chapter)